


Love Me If You Dare

by Sakharov



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 52,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakharov/pseuds/Sakharov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter in the pawnshop and a shared love of literature sparks something between Belle and Gold, but insecurities and past histories will complicate the happy ending they both hope for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Books Are Meant To Be Read

**Author's Note:**

> "What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared?" - Mikhail Bulgakov

Chapter 1: Books Are Meant To Be Read

 

The tinkle of the bell alerted Gold to the fact that someone was entering the pawnshop. Scowling, he put down the magnifying glass and reluctantly got up from the worktable in the back room to see who it was. Hopefully whoever it was could be dealt with quickly and he could soon return to the old clock he was restoring. With the exception of Mayor Mills and her son, there was almost no one in Storybrook he cared to talk to. Or who cared to talk to him. 

Gold assumed his customary place behind the counter with both hands on top of his cane and saw that his customer was the young woman from the library. She was looking at one of the display cases and hadn’t noticed he had come in. 

What was her name again? French…Belle French. Daughter of that idiot Moe French, who was always behind on payments on that flower shop. But the daughter seemed to quite different than the father, always well-put together and interested in books.

The information flashed through his brain as similar information would have had it been anyone else. Gold made it his business to know of the residents of Storybrook, even if he had no specific dealings with them. Knowledge was power, and he hadn’t become the most powerful person in the town by accident. 

He started to wonder what she might be looking for, but decided it was silly to speculate when he could simply ask and find out. He was not one for idle conjecture.

“Miss French, good afternoon. Are you looking for anything in particular?” His manner and tone was impassive. It was the persona he showed to the world – impassive and calculating, but as long as he wasn’t crossed, indifferent. 

Belle jumped and turned to look at him. 

“Oh, hello Mr. Gold, I didn’t hear you. I was wondering if you have books in your shop.” She smiled at him and moved to stand by the counter. 

It was the smiling that surprised him, but that surprise didn’t show. Masking emotions and maintaining composure were fortes of his. Hardly anyone smiled at him, not in this town at least. Granted, that was in part because most of his interactions with the people of Storybrook involved collecting rent or negotiating deals, but even at other times people always tended to be ill at ease around him. 

“The librarian is looking for books? I do have some, but has the library run out?” he asked dryly, quirking an eybrow. He surprised himself with his response. He would later decide it was because she smiled at him, because she didn’t seem afraid of him.

Belle laughed at that. How long had it been since someone had laughed at something he said?

“Haha. As much as I love the library, its selection of books is what one would expect to find in a small town. I’ve been interested in Soviet literature lately, but our selection is pretty much nonexistent. I was hoping that perhaps you might have some. I’m especially interested in Bulgakov.”

He blinked. He had not expected that. Bulgakov was one of his favorite authors. “I will check in the back. I think I just might.”

“Really? That would be wonderful!” Belle beamed at him

Gold almost smiled at her excitement. Almost, but didn’t. He caught himself in time. “I will be right back.”

He limped into the back room and, sure enough, on the bottom of one of the shelves was a small pile of books. Bulgakov’s Master and Margarita and Heart of a Dog were among them. He picked up both novels and headed back to the front, feeling inordinately pleased that he had the books she had been looking for.

“It’s your lucky day, Miss French. I happen to have two Bulgakov novels.” Gold placed the books on the counter.

“Wonderful!” said Belle. She picked up both books, examining the covers and looking inside for the prices, but then bit her lip and put Heart of a Dog back on the counter. Did she have financial problems? Gold made a mental note to check.

“I’ll stick with Master and Margarita for now. Maybe I’ll come back for the other one later, if you think you’ll still have it,” she said.

“I’m not sure if I can guarantee that, what with Soviet literature being such a hot commodity in our little town,” said Gold dryly, allowing himself a small smile.

Belle laughed again at that, and pulled out the $5 for the one book. Putting it on the counter, she said, “Well, I guess I’ll have to take my chances. Have a good day, Mr. Gold, and thank you.”

“And the same to you, Miss French,” he responded, and she turned to leave.

Later Gold would decide it was because of her smile. Or because he could count on one hand the number of people in Storybrook who would talk to him normally and weren’t fearful of him (apparently he could add Miss French to the list, although he would still not need his other hand).

“Wait, Miss French, one moment,” he called. He immediately regretted it, but she was already turning to look at him curiously.

He picked up the other book and held it out to her. “Take this one too. It is unlikely anyone will buy it, and it would be a shame for it to sit around collecting dust.”

A look of puzzlement crossed her face briefly, but she smiled and took the book. “Thank you! I-“

He shrugged and cut her off. “It’s nothing. Books are meant to be read.”

“And I’ll definitely do that,” said Belle.

“I trust you will. Have a good afternoon, Miss French, and do enjoy the books.” He inclined his head. 

“I’m looking forward to reading them. Goodbye, Mr. Gold,” and she turned and left.

Gold watched her leave and then caught himself thinking that he shouldn’t have given her the other book, because now she didn’t have a reason to come back. He mentally shook himself. That wouldn’t do at all. The pleasant interaction made for a nice change from what was normal, but it wasn’t likely to happen again.

***


	2. A Holiday Party

_~The beginning of December~_

Belle finished the books within a week (the snowy Maine winter helped with that) but it was several weeks before she saw Mr. Gold again. She had thought about him fleetingly a few times, as she wanted to discuss the books with someone, but literature wasn’t a common discussion topic among her friends. Not that she knew the man at all, other than the rumors that circulated around town, but he had seemed to recognize Bulgakov’s name and she felt that if anyone in Storybrooke knew anything about Russia and Russian literature, it would be Mr. Gold.

Even though Belle would have liked nothing more than to spend the evening discussing literature and history over a bottle of wine, she unfortunately was otherwise occupied that evening. It was the Mayor’s annual holiday party, at the mayoral mansion, and all the public employees of Storybrooke were invited, as well as the important persons in town. Her job at the library meant she got an invitation, and even though she would prefer not to go, Ruby convinced her it could look bad not to show up, and if she wanted funding for more books for the library, she needed all the good will she could foster with Mayor Mills.

Sighing, Belle pulled on her coat. It was quite cold outside, and she would be walking from her apartment over the library to the part of town where those with money, such as the Mayor, lived. Figuring she might as well head out sooner rather than later, as the sooner she got there the sooner she could leave, she headed out into the night. As she walked down Main Street, she pulled her coat tighter and was grateful it wasn’t snowing.

Belle reached the mayoral mansion without incident and paused a moment to admire the decorations – the mayor really did go all out – but the weather didn’t permit more than a brief pause. She slipped inside and hung up her coat and decided she would head straight to the bar (the previous year it had been by the far wall), have a drink, hopefully bid the Mayor happy holidays, and then leave.

All of Storybrooke’s important persons were in attendance, and Belle felt out of place as she skirted along the wall toward where the food and drink was. She was too busy watching the crowd that she didn’t notice that someone else had the same idea of standing by the wall out of the main press of people until it would have been rude to change direction.

It was Mr. Gold. He stood, a drink in one hand and the other on top of his cane, observing impassively. People seemed to give him a wide berth.

“Miss French,” he said when he saw her, inclining his head in a matter that was courteous but cool. She imagined he had chosen his spot with the hope that he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone, and here she was, almost bumping into him.

“Oh, hello Mr. Gold,” she said, feeling awkward as she walked around him to continue walking along the wall toward the food tables.

She was almost past him when, figuring she had nothing to lose and she really was grateful to him for the books, she turned back to say over her shoulder, “Thank you for the books, by the way. I greatly enjoyed them.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking faintly surprised. “Did you really?”

“Oh yes,” she said, smiling at him and turning around completely. “I couldn’t put them down, especially _Master and Margarita_.” She bit her lip, but decided to push on. “Not too long ago I read Goethe’s _Faust_ and Thomas Mann’s _Doctor Faustus_ , so it was especially interesting for me to read about Bulgakov’s depiction of the devil and his own version of the story of Faust.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them,” said Gold, his mouth twitching into a small smile, his voice softening ever so slightly from the abrupt tone he normally used. “ _Master and Margarita_ is one of my favorite books. I have never read Mann’s novel, but I am familiar with Goethe. Have you read Marlowe’s _Doctor Faustus_ , one of the earlier iterations of the story?”

They began to talk, and it seemed he was actually interested in having a conversation, and wasn’t just humoring her. They talked for a while, about the story of Faust throughout the ages and the idea of the Faustian Bargain, before Gold was called away by the Mayor. Belle was sorry to see him go, as it had been a long time since she had had such a discussion, and perhaps it was just her imagination, but Gold didn’t seem too pleased at being called away either.

He made a face, saying, “I’m sorry, Miss French. I suppose the Mayor and I have business to discuss. Happy Holidays.”

“Happy Holidays, Mr. Gold,” said Belle. “Take care.” She watched him limp over to join the circle of people Mayor Mills was talking to and realized she knew hardly anything about the man other than he owned the pawnshop and half of Storybrooke, was disliked and feared by most of the town (even more than so than Mayor Mills, which said something), was always impeccably dressed, and apparently knew a great deal about literature. He was reserved, which probably came off as aloof, and he kept to himself and as he collected rent from most of the town and offered loans, it stood to reason that he wasn't popular. But despite his reputation, which, because of Storybrooke’s size was likely greatly exaggerated, and based on her admittedly limited interactions with him, he didn’t seem that bad.

Shrugging to herself, Belle figured that her luck in conversation partners was unlikely to continue, and that she had stayed at the party long enough to satisfy social norms. But as she turned to leave, Ariel, a friend who worked at City Hall, waved her over, and Belle felt obligated to say hello. Ariel was curious about why she had been talking to Gold, but Belle passed it off as a discussion about a potential loan and Ariel, eager to share some new news about the hospital, didn’t push the matter.

Finally Belle was able to get away and she grabbed her coat, but hesitated in the entrance hall, looking in dismay at the snow falling outside.

“Miss French, hello again.” A soft accented voice behind her interrupted her thoughts. “I hope you are not walking home in this weather?”

She turned to see Gold standing behind her, buttoning his coat.

“Oh, hello Mr. Gold. Unfortunately I am.” She tried to shrug it off. “But it’s alright, it’s not that far.”

Gold raised an eyebrow. “The library is not especially close either, not in this weather. Would you permit me to give you a ride home?”

She studied his face for a moment, but then, taking into account that the snow seemed to be falling ever more heavily and she had concluded earlier there was no real reason to be afraid of the man, accepted.

“That would be lovely, if it’s not too out of the way,” she said, smiling at him.

“Not at all. The town is quite small if one has a car.” And he swept out the door and Belle, after a moment’s hesitation, followed him.

Gold’s car was an older model, but well taken care of, and was parked quite close the mansion, probably due to his status in town. They got settled and Gold slowly started to drive toward the library, snowflakes swirling in the headlight beams.

“Thank you, for the ride,” said Belle. “I appreciate it. I like the winter, but walking home in this would not have been fun.”

“Tis no matter,” said Gold. “I should be thanking you for the interesting conversation. I don’t enjoy these types of events, and generally the conversations are frightfully dull, but tonight proved the exception.”

Belle was surprised at his admission but pleased at his words. “I don’t generally care for these types of things either, and I didn’t want to come tonight, but I always love talking about books.”

“Aye. Books can make for excellent conversation topics, provided one reads interesting ones.”

“True, true. Romance novels are not quite the stuff of deep discussions.” Belle had been thinking about the types of books her friends read and the comment had slipped out. She immediately blushed (and was grateful for the dark) and felt stupid and kicked herself mentally for saying it.

But Gold chuckled softly. “Indeed not. “Here we are. Good evening, Miss French.”

“The same to you,” said Belle, getting out of the car. “And thank you again.”

She watched him turn around and the car lights fade into the night, and then let herself into the library to go up to her apartment. She lived in the small one bedroom apartment over the library, and got discounted rent because of her job. It wasn’t much, but it was quiet and cozy and home. There was a tiny kitchen and a living room that also functioned as a dining room and her bedroom.

Once inside she took off her boots and sunk onto her sofa, pulling over her laptop to check emails. But she paused, fingers on the keyboard to enter her password, and looked out the window. The falling snow was visible in the circles of light from the streetlights, and she watched it fall, thinking it was what she imagined England in the winter to be like, and about Mr. Gold.

He was definitely interesting, she would give him that. Probably one of the more interesting persons in Storybrook, and she was curious to learn more about him. Maybe he could even be a sort of friend, or at least someone to have intelligent conversations with that weren’t about dating and celebrities and makeup.

She got up and went over to her bookshelves and pulled out a copy of Mann’s Doctor Faustus and put it on the coffee table. Maybe there was a way to talk to him, at least once more, if she could be bold enough to do so.

***


	3. Pink Cupcakes

 

It was the Sunday after the holiday party, which had been on a Wednesday. _Doctor Faustus_ still sat on Belle’s coffee table. She had intended to stop by Gold’s shop and give him the book, but somehow she kept finding reasons not to. She couldn’t quite put a finger on why she was so hesitant.

 Saturday night had been Ruby’s birthday celebration, and so earlier in the day she, Mary Margaret, and Jasmine made cupcakes. Mary Margaret misread the instructions and so they ended up doubling the recipe, which had been fine, but Belle hadn’t had enough red food coloring for the double batch of frosting, so they had ended up with double chocolate cupcakes with pink frosting instead of red. The cupcakes were still delicious, and it wasn’t been as bad as when they tried to make peach pie and Mary Margaret used salt instead of sugar or when they set off the smoke detector trying to make bananas foster.

Because they had doubled the recipe, Belle still had a large number of cupcakes in her kitchen the next day. Figuring she really ought to leave her apartment at least once that day, she decided to stop by the pawnshop to drop off the book and then take the cupcakes to Ruby at the diner.

As she headed down the stairs in her building, she had second thoughts about stopping in at the pawnshop and paused. How would he react? Was this weird? Their last two interactions had been purely accidental, whereas this would be different. If it had been someone else, she wouldn’t have given a second thought to pursuing a friendship with someone with such similar interests, but somehow Gold was different.

Belle shook her head. She was going to offer him a book, purely because of potential intellectual camaraderie. And he didn’t seem like someone who would misinterpret that. They definitely did have shared literary interests and had interesting conversations, conversations she at least didn’t have with anyone else in the town.

Before more doubts could surface, she resolutely left her building and walked across the street to Gold’s shop.

 ***

Even though it was a Sunday, Gold had decided to open the shop. Sometimes he would do that, if he didn’t feel like sitting at home, and sometimes he just preferred to get work done at the shop as opposed to in his study.

By the afternoon he had finished reviewing the paperwork he had brought with him and had completed inventory and so he sat behind the counter with the newspaper in front of him but not really reading it. His thoughts turned to Belle French. He had enjoyed their conversation at the holiday party, and thought it interesting that she didn’t seem to be afraid of him. Hadn’t she heard the rumors he knew circulated around town?

Shrugging to himself, he went into the back of the shop to put on the kettle for tea. As he returned to the front to wait for the water to boil, the belle chimed and in walked Belle herself, and only with difficulty did he mask his surprise.

 “Why, Miss French, good afternoon. What can I do for you?”

 “Hello Mr. Gold!” said Belle, and she smiled at him, and this time he smiled back, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. He was pleased to see her. “I wanted to say thanks for the ride the other day, and I have a book you might be interested in.”

She pulled out a copy of Mann’s _Doctor Faustus_ and put it on the counter.

 “You mentioned the other day that you’ve never read it, but you’ve read Marlowe and Goethe and Bulgakov, so I thought this one might be of interest.”

 Belle bit her lip as she looked at him, and she seemed a bit nervous.

 Gold didn’t like that she seemed nervous, and he didn’t want her to leave right away, but he wasn’t sure how to respond. Cold indifference or sneering retorts, his normal modus operandi, would not suffice in this situation. In the end his old world upbringing kicked in.

 “Thank you. I was in need of a new book to read, and after our conversation I’m particularly interested to read Mann’s novel.” He almost stopped there, but pushed himself to ask. “Would… would you care for a cup of tea? I just put the kettle on.” He almost bit his own lip and tried not to think how stupid he would feel if she declined.

 “That sounds lovely! It is quite cold outside. I actually have something that could go well with the tea.” Belle pulled out a large Tupperware from her bag and opened it to reveal a number of cupcakes with very pink frosting.

“It was Ruby’s birthday yesterday, and we so we made cupcakes, but there was a bit of a mishap and instead of red icing we ended up with this,” Belle explained a bit sheepishly. “I was going to bring the rest over to the diner, but she won’t notice if a few are missing.”

She handed him one, and he looked at it in amusement and gave a soft snort of laughter. Belle looked at him questioningly, and he explained.

“I was just thinking what the townspeople might say if they could see the feared Mr. Gold eating a cupcake that is so very pink.”

She laughed at that, and said, “They’d probably think you aren’t too scary after all, and it would make collecting rent that much harder. Don’t worry though, I won’t tell anyone.”

“I am much obliged.” He inclined his head. “It wouldn’t do for them to think me less a monster than I really am,” he added dryly.

“You’re not a monster-“ Belle began with a slight frown but the kettle cut her off.

“The water is ready,” he said unnecessarily and went to make the tea, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. If she didn't realize he wasn't a good person, that the rumors that circulated, while exaggerated, weren't completely false, whatever friendship they hoped to cultivate would wither. But then he caught himself. It wouldn't do to rush into assuming that that was even what she wanted. Maybe she just felt she owed him something, maybe... he really didn't know. 

Only when he had two steaming mugs of tea in front of him did he realize he would have to make two trips and regret waving off Belle's offer of help, as he couldn’t hold both mugs and his cane.  Embarrassed, as he hated to appear weak, he brought out one mug and then the other, grateful Belle didn’t say anything.

While he was bringing out the tea, she pulled over the stool he kept in the shop and set out several cupcakes.

"I like Mann's novel a lot," she said as he sat down. "I think his manner of writing is enjoyable to read, and the story is multi-layered. Mann wrote it right after the Second World War, and as the protagonist, Adrian, who plays the role of Faust, is sometimes interpreted as a metaphor for Nazi Germany, I think the question of redemption, for Adrian and for Germany, is particularly interesting..."

The conversation flowed easily and touched on numerous subjects; nothing personal (although one tends to reveal something of oneself in deeper conversations), but each preferred it that way. They talked briefly about the idea of redemption and then veered back to the story of Faust and  then about different appearances of the devil in literature - Gold was surprised Belle had never read The Brothers Karamazov - and debated whether or not the ghost in Hamlet was intended to be a real ghost or just in Hamlet's head. Later both would remember how easy it had been to talk to the other. They had more than enough to talk about, the conversation never faltered, and they could have continued to chat late into the evening if Belle hadn’t had to give the rest of the cupcakes to Ruby.

***

That night Gold sat in his favorite armchair at his house, _Doctor Faustus_ and a glass of wine on the side table next to him, watching the flames in the hearth flicker, and trying to make sense of the afternoon. Could it be that he had found a friend in Belle, that she was actually interested in pursuing a friendship? Their afternoon together certainly made it seem so. He would welcome such relations, as she was intelligent and charming and he greatly enjoyed her company, but he was puzzled as to why she would be interested.

 Gold shrugged and smiled to himself as he realized he had an excuse to see her again, and picked up _Doctor Faustus_ and began to read.

 


	4. Sympathy for the Devil

***

Belle thought about Gold sporadically over the course of the week. Would he return the book in person when he was done? Would he just drop in during the library’s hours and hand it off? Or maybe he would come by at closing time and they could chat over tea… But as the weekend approached and Gold didn’t show, she began to think that he wouldn’t. Maybe he just wasn’t finished with the novel. Or maybe he just put up with her but was perfectly content not to seek her out. 

The weekend came and went and even though it was a good-sized book, it was with particular annoyance that Belle closed the library early on Monday to go help at her father’s shop. She had never liked working at the flower shop, in part because it was several hours with her father, but she felt a certain obligation. In November and December she would close the library at four instead of seven to put in some hours at Game of Thorns and to make sure the account books were in order. The holidays tended to be a busy time, as the shop also sold poinsettias and wreaths and Christmas trees. Since she had come back from college, Belle had realized it was easier if she took care of the book-keeping (not just in the holiday months) because if she didn’t, she would likely be the one called upon to deal with the resulting problems. 

Thankful that the flower shop hadn’t been too busy that day, Belle hurried home a bit before seven. All day heavy clouds had threatened snow and the short days of the winter meant it was already dark. Belle turned on to Main Street in time to see Gold turning away from the closed library.

“Mr. Gold, hello!” she called out, speeding up. 

“Oh, Miss French, good evening,” he said, stopping and turning and waiting for her to get to the library. He smiled slightly and inclined his head in greeting. “I stopped by to return your book, but I appear to have misjudged the library hours.”

“Oh, well, usually the library is open until seven, but during the holidays I help at Game of Thorns, so on Mondays and Wednesdays the library closes early. So, normally you’d be right,” she said quickly, pleased to see him.

She bit her lip. It was really cold outside, too cold to stand and talk, and yet she didn’t want to pass up the opportunity… In the moment of indecision she made up her mind. Maybe it was the irritation at her father and working in the flower shop, maybe it was something about Gold, about how happy she had been after their pervious conversations, but something gave her the courage to invite him over.

“Would…would you like to come up for a cup of tea? It seems I owe you one,” she said, searching his face for some sort of clue to what he was thinking.

A strange look passed over Gold’s face and he hesitated for a second, and for a moment she felt silly for asking, but then he nodded. “I would like that,” he said quietly. 

Belle smiled at that, and the smile stayed on her face as he followed her through the library to the stairs in the back that went up to her apartment. It only faltered at her door, when she realized he would be seeing almost all of her apartment, and it wasn’t much. As she unlocked the door, she was thankful she was a generally tidy person and that she had closed the door to her bedroom that morning. 

She was acutely aware of how small the space was, and how mismatched the furniture was. But to his credit Gold didn’t say anything or even look around disdainfully, and somehow it wasn’t as awkward ushering him into the apartment as she had feared it might be.

“It’s nice,” he said, and it sounded like he meant it. “Quite cozy, and I’m not surprised to see so many books.”

Belle shrugged. “It’s not much, but it’s home. You should hang up your coat by the door, and then sit somewhere. I’ll put on the water for tea.”

She busied herself in the kitchen, getting together the mugs and tea bags. Over the weekend she had made spice cookies, and, figuring they would go well with tea, put some on a plate and went back into the living room. Gold was studying her bookshelf, but as she entered he turned. 

“Some cookies, to go with the tea,” she said as she put the plate on the table.

“Did you bake them? The cupcakes were very good last week,” said Gold and he moved to sit on the sofa.

“I did,” she said, smiling. “I love baking, and cooking in general, especially when it’s so cold outside. I’ve also found baked goods make good holiday presents.” Good presents that aren’t expensive, she added silently, as she went back into the kitchen to get the tea.

“These are excellent,” Gold said as she came back in with the mugs of tea. 

She hesitated for a moment but then decided to sit on the couch next to him. Gold stiffened initially, but then he smiled and relaxed, and that smile reassured her she had made the right decision. 

Inspired by Doctor Faustus, they initially talked about redemption and justice. Belle believed that in all but the rarest cases redemption was possible, but Gold was less forgiving. He had a darker outlook on humanity, while she remained more positive. For Belle the world was many shades of grey, whereas for Gold it was more black and white. Belle sought to bring up the commentary on ideas of revenge and vengeance from The Count of Monte Cristo but found that Gold hadn’t read it and she mentally filed it away as a possible book to lend to him. 

The ease at which they fell into conversation belayed the short amount of time they had known each other. It was almost as if they were old friends, but there was a certain reservedness on both sides. While the conversation was far ranging, from history to current events, once again it stayed away from their personal lives. Belle did learn that Gold could be quite sarcastic and funny. 

They lost track of time, and only in a lull in conversation when they heard the clock on the bell tower strike midnight did they realize how late it was.

Gold sighed softly. “I suppose I should be off, as I believe we both have work tomorrow. I almost forgot, I have your book.” He put Doctor Faustus on the coffee table. “And I have another one for you, The Brothers Karamazov. It’s a classic, such a story. I’m surprised you haven’t already read it. In a small way – you’ll see – it continues our theme of appearances of the devil in literature.” 

Belle was secretly pleased that they apparently had a theme for the books. She also wondered if it was her imagination or if he seemed reluctant to leave, and was just using the time as an excuse because if he didn’t have an excuse to leave he felt as she did that they could spend all night talking. 

“Thank you,” she said. “Before you go let me get you some cookies to take with you.”

“You don’t have to-“ he began, but she was already in the kitchen.

She returned with a Tupperware as he was putting on his coat by the door. “I always end up with more cookies than I can eat.”

“Thank you, for the cookies and the tea and the conversation,” he said as she handed him the container. He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he was going to say something more and their eyes met, but then he turned and stepped through the doorway, pausing only to say, “Good evening, Miss French. Or perhaps I should say good morning.”

Belle smiled as she watched him leave, and she kept smiling as she closed the door and settled back down on the sofa. Absentmindedly she took the last cookie on the plate and as she ate it, she thought about Gold. 

She liked him, she really did. Something about him… his knowledge about literature, his old world charm, his dry sense of humor, the mystery surrounding him, how natural it felt to sit and chat all night… She was intrigued and glad they had become friends of a sort. She wanted to learn more about him, but would have to be creative in going about it, because she wasn’t going to broadcast their (possible?) friendship to her own friends, in part because she didn’t want to deal with the inevitable questions and teasing that would accompany the seemingly strange announcement, and in part because she wanted to know for herself what there was between she and Gold before she tried to tell anyone else. She was happy to continue to use books as an excuse to get-together as long as he was. There certainly were enough books out there.

Yawning, she got ready for bed and fell asleep quickly. She dreamed of a fairytale land and a princess and a dark sorcerer with golden skin under a curse only love could break, but she had to wake up before she found out how the story ended. 

***

Gold once again sat by the fire and once again tried to make sense of the evening and of Belle French. She had surprised him several times – when she had invited him over, when she had sat next to him – and surprise wasn’t a feeling he was used to. He was curious about her, about the young woman who so fearlessly pursued a friendship with him, the town monster, and decided he would look into learning more about her.

He thought back to their conversation about redemption. Hers was a good heart, and her worldview was much brighter than his own. She saw goodness, whereas he… did not. She even saw him to be a good person, but then again, she had only seen the one side, and he could make a good show of it. She didn’t need to know everything, to see the other sides, if they were just to be friends. Their friendship could continue as it had, with wonderful conversations and baked goods and books, but with a line drawn somewhere.

And would he be content with that, with just being friends? In his living room with only the fire to light the room and snow falling outside, Gold allowed himself to ponder that question. He would be more than happy to just be friends with Belle; that already was more than he deserved. But if their relations were to progress further...he thought about how comfortable it felt to spend time with her, how it had been a long while since he had been able to have such conversations... but then he snorted softly. That didn’t warrant thinking about. She was so smart and charming and beautiful, but it was unlikely that someone like her could ever be interested in someone like him. Better not to think of it. 

Shaking his head, he went up to bed. It took him a long time to fall asleep, as that night he was particularly restless. For the first time in a long time he felt a stab of melancholy that his was an empty bed, and he had long ago resigned himself to the fact that that wasn’t likely to change. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The Rolling Stones' song Sympathy for the Devil was inspired by Bulgakov's Master and Margarita. Mick Jagger's girlfriend gave him the book shortly after it was translated into English.


	5. Chess and Checkers

 

Saturday, December 19

***

_The castle’s library was huge. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered most of the walls, and a fire crackled in the fireplace. The woman stood by the large windows, silhouetted by the moonlight, looking out at the ocean. She turned as the door opened. A man entered the library and walked over to stand by her. He was dressed in tall boots and breeches and a flowing cloak, but the woman instinctively knew that her clothes – jeans and a blouse – were the ones out of place. This wasn’t her world._

_“Good evening, dearie.” His voice was soft, accented, lilting, his eyes golden, fierce._

_The woman turned and stepped towards him and ran her hand through his hair. “Good evening, my love.”_

_The man made a small sound in the back of his throat at her touch and his eyes darkened and he moved his hands to her waist to pull her close. Their eyes met – her bright blue ones, full of intelligence, his golden ones, full of pride – and they paused for a moment, reveling in the connection between them._

_Then she slipped her arms around his neck and he kissed her hard. It was a kiss of passion and possession and her submission was more than willing. Together they moved toward the couch in front of the fire and the woman pulled him down on top of her, relishing in his weight on top of her and his knee between her legs and his teeth on her neck-_

The ring of Belle’s phone cut into her dream and she sleepily (and annoyedly) fumbled to answer it. 

“Hello?” she said, rubbing her eyes, her voice still thick with sleep, her heart beating fast, the castle still vivid in her mind. 

“Hiya lady!” It was Ruby. Belle groaned to herself. What was Ruby doing calling so early on a Saturday? It was… she squinted to look at her clock… 11.  Well, that wasn’t too early, but still.

“Hey. What’s up?”

Ruby wanted to confirm that they were still on for a girls’ night that evening (they were) and what she should bring (wine). Belle hung up and flopped back on her pillows, thinking about the dream. 

It wasn’t the first time that she had thought of Gold in a romantic way, but she never allowed those thoughts to go on for long. She wouldn’t be opposed if their relations were to move beyond friendship… she loved their conversations, it felt so natural to spend time with him, he was handsome in a timeless, elegant sort of way… but no. That type of thinking wouldn’t do. She hardly knew the man. Besides, it was unlikely that someone like him could ever be interested in someone like her.

Belle shook her head. Enough of that. She would be happy to be friends with him. 

That was all well and good, but… the feeling of restlessness and the ache between her legs from the dream lingered. She could take a cold shower… or she could finish what the dream began.

Her hand lingered on her stomach. Would it make it awkward she next saw him? No, she decided, she wouldn’t let it. In real life they would be friends, but bed was a place for dreams and fantasy. Besides, the man in the dream had looked like Gold, but there had also been a castle and magic and all the possibilities that a different world could offer.

Belle closed her eyes and slid her hand lower. 

***

Saturday night found Belle and Ruby and Mary Margaret and Ariel and Jasmine and Ella gathered at Mary Margaret’s apartment. There was wine and cheese and brownies and sangria and chips and salsa. They had all grown up in Storybrooke and gone to high school together and were quite close. “Girls’ night” had become a tradition they tried to adhere to at least once a month.

They sat around Mary Margaret’s coffee table, a pack of cards on the table, and tried to decide which game to play. “Girls’ night” was a night for relaxing and catching up and even though occasionally someone would say they were getting too old for this type of thing, that person would always get shouted down under the pretense that it was all good fun and they weren’t too old yet. 

As game suggestions were tossed around, Belle bit her lip and decided to see how sneaky she could be in her quest for information about Gold.

“Can I ask you guys something?” she asked, after Ruby had suggested strip poker and almost got booed out of the room.

“What’s up lady?” asked Jasmine.

“How much do you all know about Mr. Gold?” Belle asked, trying hard to sound neutral and uninterested.

“Gold, who owns the pawnshop?” asked Ariel.

“And like all of Storeybrooke?” Jasmine added as Belle nodded.

“Um…” said Mary Margaret. “I know he owns my building. But I pay my rent on time, so I never have any trouble, or any real interactions with him.”

“I’ve heard some nasty things at the diner, all hearsay mind you. Why are you interested in him all of a sudden?” asked Ruby with a gleam in her eye.

“No reason, really. Nothing like that!” she said, shooting Ruby a look but trying to sound nonchalant, as sounding too indignant would tip them off. “I got some books at the pawnshop a few weeks ago and we chatted for a bit. I was just curious, because I realized that was the first time I’ve ever spoken to him and I don’t know anything about him, except the rumors.”

“Haha, of course you would talk about books with the town monster,” said Ella, and they all laughed and even Belle allowed herself a grudging smile.

“I’m not convinced he’s all that bad,” said Belle. 

“I’ve heard he’s the only one old Regina’s afraid of, and that’s saying something,” said Ruby.

 “It always seemed to me that those two were friends,” said Ella. “The two most powerful people in town stick together.”

 “Two people you don’t want to get on the bad side of,” said Jasmine.

“Regina probably knows him best, but even then, I’m not sure that’s saying much. I don’t think anyone knows much about him. I don’t even know his first name,” said Ella, and it seemed no one else knew his first name either.

“He definitely keeps to himself,” said Ariel. “I don’t think anyone with half a brain in town would cross him, but as long as you pay your rent or payback your loans on time he’s civil. He is fair, I’d give him that.”

“I’d rather he own my building than Gerard Rose,” said Mary Margaret, and everyone made little noises of agreement with the statement and disgust at the name.

Belle flinched and Ruby touched her shoulder briefly in comfort. Her friends knew of her past with Rose’s son, Gaston, and they wouldn’t bring it up, but they knew she knew that they would always be there for her. 

The conversation moved on to everyone’s holiday plans and Belle was confident her friends hadn’t suspected anything. Later she would reflect that she hadn’t really learned anything new, but had rather confirmed what she already thought. Gold held a great deal of sway in Storybrooke, but he didn’t abuse that power. His reputation was likely due in part to the fact that no one liked to hand over money, and she couldn’t see him putting up with excuses.

***

Sunday, December 20

***

The next day Belle was pleased to see that Gold opened the pawnshop on Sunday, as she had finished _The Brothers Karamazov_ and was eager to return it to him and to give him _The Count of Monte Cristo._ She pushed the previous morning’s activities to the back of her mind as she put the books and a loaf of pumpkin bread in her bag and headed across the street. 

Heart beating a bit too quickly, she pushed open the door to the pawnshop. Gold appeared in the doorway that led to the back of the store to see who had come in. He was on the phone, but he smiled when he saw her and motioned that he wouldn’t be long. She tried to motion to him not to worry and turned to look at the various items in the pawnshop.

She was admiring a chess set when he reappeared in the shop.

“Hello, Miss French,” Gold said softly. He didn’t advance beyond the counter but stood watching her and as she turned their eyes met. She thought she saw a flash of something on his face, but maybe she was just reading too much into it because she wished it were so.

“Mr. Gold,” she said, trying not to sound too happy to see him and hoping she wasn’t blushing. “Hello! How are you?”

“I am well. And yourself? I take it you have finished _The Brothers Karamazov_?”

“I did! I loved it. What a story. I thought the Grand Inquisitor chapter especially interesting,” said Belle, wishing she didn’t need a book as an excuse to stop by the pawnshop. 

“It’s quite the book. If you have a moment, would you care for a cup of tea? The Grand Inquisitor story is one of my favorite parts.” Gold asked as if they hadn’t already spent hours talking about books and as if she might say no.

“Tea sounds lovely,” said Belle. She had been hoping that he would ask. “I actually have pumpkin bread with me, I think it would go well with tea.” 

“I quite agree, especially if you baked it,” said Gold, smiling a small smile, and he disappeared back into the other room to make the tea, again waving off her offer of help.

While he was gone, Belle, pleased at his praise of her cooking, put the pumpkin bread and the books on the counter and pulled up the stool.

When Gold reappeared with the tea, she said, “I brought you _The Count of Monte Cristo_ , because even though it breaks with our theme of the devil in literature, it continues with the ideas of justice and redemption and revenge. Do you know the story at all?” 

“I know the basic premise,” said Gold, pulling up a stool for himself and sitting across from her. “But I haven’t read the book.”

 “It’s wonderful! Adventure – I think its genre has even been called ‘high adventure’ – and romance and revenge and plotting. It’s so great when the Count returns to France after all the years have passed and he turns Parisian society upside down. With his money and intelligence, he runs rings around all those who did him wrong. He’s a chess grandmaster while all the rest are playing checkers.”

 Gold chuckled softly at her description. “I look forward to reading it. Speaking of chess, I saw you admiring the chess set in the window. Do you play, Miss French?”

“I can, but I'm not great. I don't get to play as much as I would like,” Belle admitted.

“Would you care for a game? It has been a while since I played, but I enjoy it. We can use that set.”

The set was a beautiful antique and the chess pieces were intricately carved figurines. Gold quickly saw that Belle had sold herself short and that she was actually quite the skilled player. He quickly had to revise his strategy to prevent an early defeat. The game went on for longer than either anticipated, and there was a lot of teasing and laughing. Finally, after both were down to only a few pieces, Gold finally cornered Belle’s king and won, but it was close.

After the game they lingered and chatted and the pumpkin bread was finished and then the tea was finished. They talked about a wide range of topics, but both avoided any mention of the upcoming holidays. Finally Belle reluctantly bid Gold farewell, using work the next day as an excuse.

He walked with her to the door and she let him hold open the door.

“Have a good evening, Miss French. Thank you for a lovely afternoon.” He inclined his head, his voice soft, something unreadable in his eyes.

She studied his face for a moment and wanted to kiss his cheek, but in the end her courage failed her and she just said, “Good evening, Mr. Gold. Happy Holidays.” And she headed back across the street to the library.

Belle was quite happy the rest of the evening. Something about spending time with Gold, talking about books, laughing with him, was different than spending time with other people. As she got ready for bed, she decided the next step in their friendship would have to be to get him to just call her “Belle,” not “Miss French.” Maybe she would even learn his first name.

***

 


	6. Unlikely Alliances

Christmas fell on a Friday that year. The evening of the 25th of December found Gold sprawled on the sofa in Regina’s house, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the feeling of being stuffed with excellent food.

He half turned to watch Regina reenter the room after having said goodnight to Henry. She paused to pour two glasses of apple cider.

As she sat down next to him, Gold said, “Once again you’ve outdone yourself, my dear. Dinner was excellent.” He spoke with a degree of warmth not many got to hear.

“I’m glad you did decide to come in the end. Three people leave less left-overs than two.”

“Are you telling me, Madame Mayor, that that is the only reason I received an invitation?”

“What other reason would I have?”

“Why, my delightful company and witty sense of humor, of course.”

Regina snorted, a noise most would believe her incapable of making. “You wish.”

Their banter was playful and teasing and most of Storybrooke would have been surprised to hear the two most feared people in town talk in such a way.

“Here you go. To old friends, and almost to the new year.” Regina handed Gold a glass of cider and they toasted.

Regina leaned against him and sighed softly. “Another year gone.”

Gold regarded the woman next to him. “Aye. This makes ten years, doesn’t it? Ten Christmases together.”

“Time is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed.”

They spoke quietly of the years past and the odd alliance they had forged all those years ago when Storybrooke had been a different town. Discussion of the past blended into discussion of current goings-on, and Gold figured it was as good a time as any to try to covertly learn about Belle. He had meant to earlier but something had always deterred him.

“Regina, what do you know about the French family?”

“You mean Mo French and his daughter Belle? He owns Game of Thorns and is friendly with Gerard Rose.”

Gold scowled at the mention of Gerard Rose. Gold owned many buildings in Storybrooke, but Gerard Rose did too. Rose’s buildings were mostly by the waterfront, and while Gold was tough but fair, Rose…was not. Even though Storybrooke wasn’t a big city, it still had a sleazy underside, and Rose and his son were key players. They dabbled in real estate but also had a hand in a number of more unsavory businesses endeavors, such as gambling and drugs and prostitution. Rose was smart though, and while the Storybrooke police kept an eye on him, he covered his tracks well and had yet to slip up. Gold didn’t like the thought of Belle at all near Rose or his son, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Regina looked at him curiously.

Gold shrugged. “Miss French came into the pawnshop the other day looking for books and we chatted. I realized that while I know something about the father, I didn’t know much about her.”

“You’d probably be better off talking to Sheriff Swan for details about the elder French. I don’t know much about the daughter, other than that she tenaciously pushes for more funding for the library. Any reason for this sudden interest? Is French being problematic?”

Gold shrugged. “No, French continues to manage to make rent, although I’m surprised each time. I suspect he receives help from somewhere. I was just struck by how different she seems to be than her father.”

Regina raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Their discussion moved on to other subjects until Gold yawned and reluctantly stood to bid Regina farewell.

“Wait, one moment before you go-“ Regina disappeared into the kitchen and returned to give him a box.

“The apple pie recipe makes two.”

Gold smiled and didn’t point out that she could have halved the recipe. That wasn’t how the game they played worked.

Gold paused in the doorway. Regina stepped close and reached to brush back his hair and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night, Gold. See you soon.”

He kissed her forehead. “Good night, Regina. Thank you.”

And he turned and left. The night was cold and clear and felt good to walk after such a large meal. He lived quite close to Regina and it wasn’t long before he was unlocking his own door and putting the pie in the kitchen.

***

The next day found Gold sitting out by the ocean. The nicer neighborhood of Storybrooke – with the fancy houses and where Gold and Regina lived – was close to the water and Gold’s house was a bit beyond where most of the other houses were. He liked his solitude.

His house was situated on a bluff overlooking the sea. Large bay windows on both stories offered a lovely view of the water, but even though heavy clouds threatened and it was quite cold, he chose to sit on a piece of driftwood on the beach rather than stay inside. He liked to go to the seashore to think. The sound of the waves, the smell of the salt air, the wheeling seagulls… it reminded him of his childhood in Scotland, of the possibilities offered by the open ocean. Because the beach was rocky and beach-goers tended to want sand and rarely ventured that far up the coast, it was always relatively peaceful.

Lost in thought, Gold didn’t realize someone was approaching until there was the snap of a branch. He looked up with surprise to see Belle not too far off. She looked up at the same moment and stopped abruptly upon seeing him.

Gold stood up. “Miss French, how are you?” he called, curious what she was up to.

Belle hesitantly came closer. “Oh, hello Mr. Gold. I, um, I didn’t expect to see anyone out on such a day.” She sounded flustered and he thought that she probably had now wanted to see anyone.

“Is everything alright?” he asked with concern. She looked tired and upset, not as someone should look on the day after Christmas, and as though she had been crying. He felt his heart contract painfully and wanted to be able to comfort her.

“I’m fine… it’s nothing. I… I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head.

“Would you like to sit?” He motioned to the log he had been sitting on. “It’s a bit cold, but I like coming out here to gather my thoughts. It reminds me of Scotland.”

She sat, but her stiff posture betrayed that something was wrong. “I also like walking along the beach when I need time…” She trailed off and it looked like she was struggling not to start crying again.

Gold bit his lip. He wasn’t very good at offering comfort, and he wasn’t sure where to start. He tried to cast around for the right thing to say, but everything he could think of sounded flat. _Tell me what’s wrong, let me fix it. let me in, let me help, I want to be there for you_. He recognized the irony of hoping she would open up to him when there was a great deal about his past that he guarded jealously and would be loathe to talk about.

Gold tentatively stroked her back, and felt something shift in his chest when she scooted closer and leaned against him. He put an arm around her as she haltingly began to talk.

“It’s just… it’s been a while since the holidays have been fun. My father is reminded acutely that my mother is no longer here, and while I’d rather just avoid him, because it’s the holidays and one is supposed to spend time with family, I don’t have an excuse. We went over to a friend of my father’s for Christmas and… well, I’m just glad that day is over.”

“Was that friend Gerard Rose?” Gold asked bitterly before he could stop himself.

“How did you know?” Belle looked at him with surprise.

“I… I just see the two of them together a lot,” Gold said quickly, wishing he had been able to keep his mouth shut.

“Yes. They’re…good friends.” she shivered, and Gold didn’t think it was from the cold. He felt a surge of anger, and swore to himself that he would figure out what was going on.

“Anyways, I’m sorry for being a mess, I’m fine, I really am,” she said, sounding falsely cheerful. “You mentioned Scotland earlier. You’re from there originally, aren’t you?”

Gold let her change the subject and told her of the beautiful cliffs and coasts of Scotland and of Scottish folklore and history. He hoped it wasn’t just his imagination that she seemed to become at least slightly more cheerful, and she even smiled and laughed, albeit weakly, at his stories.

They sat for a little while, seemingly oblivious to the cold, but then the first snowflakes began to fall. As it began to fall harder it became clear they couldn’t stay outside and Gold was struck with an inspiration. He remembered the weather report from that morning, which had forecast heavy snow, close to a blizzard, for that afternoon and evening.

“Miss French, my house is not far. Would you perhaps like to come over to get out of this weather? I can promise apple pie,” he said tentatively, hoping it wouldn’t come off as anything more than a friendly offer to go inside. He didn’t mean it as anything more. He just hoped she saw him as a friend, as someone she could trust.

Belle looked up from buttoning her coat, surprised at the suggestion, but then she smiled and said, “That sounds lovely,” and his heart skipped.

The two made their way back towards his house, and although they went quickly, by the time they reached the back door they were wet and cold.

“After you.” He ushered her inside. “You’re welcome to stay until the snow stops.” The worse the weather was, the more time they could spend together, and spending time with her was always a pleasure, no matter how she saw him.

As they both paused right inside the door so as to not track snow into the house, they came to be standing quite close together. Belle had snowflakes in her hair and her cheeks had extra color from the cold and her eyes seemed extra blue and she seemed extra beautiful.

“You always seem to be rescuing me from the bad weather. My hero.” She grinned at him and his breath caught as she reached to brush snow from his hair.

Her tone was light and playful, and it was likely only wistful thinking on his part that there was something more in her gaze.

“Chivalry is not dead, my lady,” he said, trying to sound light and playful back, and he bowed and she laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gold and Belle together in his house and it looks like a blizzard... what do you think will happen? Or rather, what do you hope will happen? ;)


	7. It Could Be Real, If Only For A Night

 

As he took off his coat, Gold watched as Belle, after taking off her own coat, advanced further into the house. 

They had entered through the back door, which opened into the kitchen. That side of the house had the kitchen and dining room, and across the hall was the living room and parlor and his study. The living room (and master bedroom upstairs) had wonderful views of the ocean.

Belle was wearing skinny blue jeans and a baggy maroon sweater. He watched as she skillfully put up her hair – now wet from the snow – into a messy bun and thought off-handedly that having so much hair was probably a lot of work but she managed it quite well. She seemed less put together – with the too big sweater and the ripped jeans – than normal, but he figured it was probably because she hadn’t counted on running into anyone that day. She was very slim, almost too slim, perhaps from too many missed meals.

“You have such a lovely house,” she said, smiling and turning.  

“Thank you. Do make yourself -“ His voice trailed off and his smile froze.

Belle had absentmindedly pushed up her sleeves, and on her left forearm, stark against the pale skin, were bruises that looked very much like someone had grabbed her arm.

“Miss French.” His voice was soft and dangerous. “What happened?”

Belle looked over at him with surprise and something close to alarm at the change in his voice. Following his gaze, she glanced at her arm and then hastily pulled down her sleeves, confirming his hypothesis that someone had grabbed her. Otherwise, why the attempt to cover it up?

“It’s nothing, really. I’m fine.” It wasn’t something she had wanted him – or anyone – to see and she wasn’t going to discuss it with him. She wished she had been more careful – she had pushed up her sleeves without thinking.

Looking back at him, she saw his eyes were narrowed and his expression was hard with anger. This was the Mr. Gold the town was afraid of, this was the side of her friend she had only heard about. 

“Is someone giving you a hard time?” He slowly stepped towards her. She saw how he didn’t have to raise his voice to be threatening.

“No. It’s nothing I can’t take care of myself.” For every step he took towards her she backed up.

“If there is something going on-“

“No, there isn’t anything. Please, just stop.” Belle hoped her voice sounded strong despite how quickly her heart was beating, and she tried to match him stare for stare. She wanted him to drop it. This was her fight, her problem.

Both stood silently, regarding each other. Angry golden eyes met defiant blue ones, and each realized they were seeing another side of the other.

Gold almost bit out, “Whether or not you chose to tell me, I can and will find out. No one hurts the people I care about,” but refrained. He had the resources at his disposal to find out a great deal about the goings-on in town, but she didn’t want to talk about it and she didn’t want him to push the subject, so with great effort he stayed silent and sought to reign in his temper. _Maybe I’ll just take care of whatever problem this is and you, dear Belle, will never need to know._

He took a breath, and forcing himself to sound calm, said stiffly, “As you wish. I hope that you know you can come to me if something is wrong.”

Belle nodded warily but stayed silent.

Gold sighed and looked away. In an effort to change the subject, even though it sounded forced to his ears, said, “Would you like something to eat or drink? I believe I promised pie.”

Happy to switch the focus away from herself, Belle jumped on the offer. “That sounds great. Apple has always my favorite. How can I help?”

They moved into the kitchen and Gold got out plates and forks and brought them to the table where the pie was sitting.

“And now, what would you like to drink? There is always tea, but I do have some bottles of excellent spiced wine, which would go well with the weather and the apples.” Gold had initially been hesitant to suggest alcohol, but he figured he could use a drink after their near altercation and thought she might feel the same way. Besides, the spiced wine was delicious, and complimented the pie quite well.

“Wine sounds lovely, thank you.”

“Very well. Perhaps you could cut the pie, and I will be right back with the wine.”

Belle looked at him questioningly as he turned to leave the kitchen, and so he said dryly, “The wine is in the wine cellar. The wine cellar is where my nice collection of wine is, as well as the coffin where I sleep and the bodies of the townspeople who displease me.”

Belle’s mouth twitched but she kept a straight face. “Ah, of course. I was wondering about that. Good thing I left my garlic at home.”

“I am much obliged to you for that, and for the fact that I believe it is socially unacceptable to carry around large amounts of garlic. I will be right back, Miss French.” And, inclining his head, he turned to leave once more.

“Belle,” she said behind him.

“I’m sorry?” he said, turning back.

“You always call me ‘Miss French,’” she said softly and shrugged. And was she blushing slightly? “You could call me ‘Belle,’ you know.”

Gold didn’t trust himself to speak, and so he just nodded and continued out of the room. He paused in the wine cellar, savoring the cooler temperature, and took a deep breath. It seemed their relations were back to where they had been before they entered the house, but he still felt shaken. He hadn’t been that angry in a long time, and it had only been with great effort that he had managed to curb his anger. The anger had been overwhelming, and that wouldn’t do, not when he wanted to show that first and foremost he was there for her, he was someone she could come to and talk to, and he would listen and support her in whatever decisions she made.

Since when had the woman upstairs meant so much to him? If he was going to be honest with himself, ever since she had walked into the pawnshop after the holiday party with a book and a smile, he had allowed himself more hope than was prudent.

Shaking his head, Gold returned to the kitchen with two bottles of the spiced wine to find Belle had cut two generous slices of the pie. 

“Wow, this is delicious,” said Belle after the first bite of pie. “Did you make it?”

“Ha. I did not. Our lovely mayor actually deserves the credit.”

Belle choked on the bite she was taking and started coughing. “Regina made this? She can bake? I didn’t mean, I just…“ She trailed off, looking sheepish.

Gold laughed at the look on Belle’s face. “Aye, she is a woman of many talents. Well, go on-“ he said as Belle regarded the piece on her fork. “It’s not as if she poisoned it.”

Belle warily ate the bite and grudgingly acquiesced. “It is quite good.” She looked at him curiously. “So, you and Regna are friends?”

He nodded. “Aye, of a sort. Old friends. A while back we were united in a common cause and we realized that we found each-other’s company not entirely disagreeable.”

She looked amused at his answer and as if she wanted to ask more, but he changed the subject and she let him. They chatted about Gold’s progress in _The Count of Monte Cristo_ (Albert had just been rescued from the bandits) and how it was a great novel and about other things. They made their way through one bottle of wine and a good part of the pie. The afternoon wore on and the snow continued to fall but both pretended not to notice, interested to see if the other would bring it up first.

As evening approached, Gold cleared his throat self-consciously. He had been thinking about the offer he was going to suggest the whole afternoon, but he hadn’t been sure how to bring it up without making it seem as if he was testing the borders of their friendship. More than anything he wanted her to see in him a friend, someone she could trust. Maybe, with time, she might see more than that, but he would never ask for more than she wanted to give.  

“I think the snow has fallen all day, and will likely continue well into the night. It is unlikely the roads are clear. You are welcome to stay over, if you wish. I have several extra bedrooms,” he said, in what he hoped was a normal tone.

Belle gave him a searching look, but what she was looking for he wasn’t sure. “I think I might take you up on that offer,” she said softly, with a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I couldn’t have you trying to get home in this.” He waved a hand at the window, where snow had piled up. “I suppose we should think about dinner at some point. Perhaps some real food might be good. I’m afraid I don’t do much cooking though, and my cupboards might be in a sorry state.”

“Well, we’ll have to see what you do have and get creative!” Belle grinned and stood up. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Gold stood up as well, a bit less enthusiastically, as he was a bit embarrassed at the state of his kitchen.

After having surveyed what he had in the cabinets, pantry, and refrigerator, Belle turned to him and asked, “How does Shepard’s Pie sound? You have all the basics - instant mashed potatoes, frozen peas, corn, and carrots, ground turkey, and spices. We’ll avoid the garlic, of course, but we should be able to cobble something together.”

Belle delivered the last sentence with a serious expression on her face and Gold said dryly that he appreciated the gesture, and that Shepard’s Pie sounded wonderful. She took charge, instructing him what to do. They both noted how natural it felt for them both to be in the kitchen, working together, laughing, joking, teasing.

As they ate, Gold suggested they chose a movie for the evening. After they decided on _Strangers on a Train_ , they spent the rest of the meal chatting about movies and when they were done they relocated to the living room. 

In the living room there were floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean and on the other walls there were on the walls there were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, cluttered with books and antiquities Gold had collected from his travels and through the antique trade he dabbled in. There was also a sizable flat screen TV – he did enjoy movies - and black leather furniture. As with the rest of the house, the room was a mix of elegance and timelessness but also of comfort.

“What a lovely room,” said Belle, looking around and going over to one of the shelves. “Almost like a museum!”

Gold chuckled softly at that. “They are just some things I’ve collected over the years. Please, feel free to look around and to borrow any books that strike your fancy.” He watched her run her fingers along one of the bookshelves for a moment, thinking what a special woman she was, before he forcing himself to turn his attention back to the TV.

As the movie began, Gold sat on the sofa. Belle stayed a moment longer at the bookshelves, looking at one book she had pulled off, but then without hesitation she turned off the light and sat down next to him and snuggled up against him. He put his arm around her, tentatively stroking her arm, and she shifted closer and he hoped she couldn’t hear how quickly his heart was beating.

Gold couldn’t concentrate on the movie - his thoughts kept wandering to the woman next to him. He kept thinking how normal the afternoon had felt – talking and cooking together and eating, and now watching a movie – almost as if there was something real between them, something more than friends.  

And now she was almost in his arms. It would just take a small shift to kiss her. And maybe she would respond and run her fingers through his hair and move onto his lap. But no. He wasn’t that brave, not when it mattered, and besides, it didn’t seem appropriate, not after the day they had had, after how upset she had been earlier.

As the movie drew to an end, he realized she had fallen asleep against him. After some deliberation he decided to just let her sleep on the couch – it was comfortable and it seemed as if she hadn’t gotten a good nights’ sleep recently and so he would let her sleep. He pushed away the thought that maybe he was afraid of what waking her might lead to.

Shaking his head at those thoughts, Gold shifted to the edge of the sofa, holding her in his arms, and carefully lowered her so that she was lying down. She stayed asleep through it, and he grabbed a blanket from one of the armchairs to drape over her.

It had stopped snowing during the film, and now the sky was clear. Gold knelt by the side of the sofa and watched her sleep, able to make out her features in the moonlight. He gently reached out to brush back some of her hair and kissed her forehead. 

“Goodnight, Belle,” he murmured and turned and went quietly to his bedroom. At least he would always have the memory of this perfect afternoon and evening. But how he wished for more… At least he could admit that to himself now.

 

 ***

 


	8. And The Day After

 

Belle lingered on the sofa the next morning, warm under the blanket, looking at Gold’s bookshelves and the view of the ocean. Pale winter sunlight slanted through the windows. She felt cozy and safe and happy, and didn’t want to get up. The previous afternoon had been so wonderful…and to fall asleep almost in his arms was the perfect ending. Perhaps it could have been improved had she been brave enough to kiss him, but best not to dwell on what could have been.

Eventually she did get up and wandered over to the kitchen. She thought how there had been so many potentially uncomfortable situations – normally an unexpected sleepover with a potential romantic interest would have its awkward moments - but somehow everything felt so normal.

Gold was sitting at the kitchen table, with the newspaper and a cup of coffee in front of him. He looked up as she approached, and smiled at her and she smiled at him and for a moment they just stood there.

“Good morning, Miss Fr- Belle,” he said finally, his voice soft. “I hope you slept well, and I hope you didn’t mind sleeping on the sofa. I didn’t want to wake up, as it seemed you were tired.” 

“No worries, I slept very well, thank you.” She tried not to show how pleased she was that he had called her Belle. And it had been a while since she had slept so well, but the sofa had been quite comfortable.

“Would you like some coffee or breakfast or perhaps you would like to wash up, to shower?”

“Erm…showering might be nice. And then breakfast, perhaps?”

Gold showed her to the guest bathroom and handed her a towel.

 As she undressed, her eyes fell on the bruises on her arm and she winced.

Damn it, Gaston, she thought. Christmas had already been ruined when her father told her they were going to the Rose’s for dinner, but of course his actions had to spill over to affect her relationship with Gold. She and Gaston had dated in high school because of her father’s friendship with his father, but he was arrogant and rude and a bully, not someone she would ever want in her life. After he had raised his hand against her several times she ended it, but he never quite believed that she wanted nothing to do with him, and he was someone she still tried to avoid. On Christmas he had cornered her outside and tried to suggest they should get back together but she had pushed him away and then they had to go inside to eat dinner at the same table.

Seeing Gold’s display of temper had been unnerving, but what struck her was that the anger hadn’t been directed at her…it was at whoever gave her the bruises. She sat down on the side of the bathtub as she thought through what that meant. Her father had never believed there were any problems with Gaston – in her father’s eyes he was what a man should be, and he always pushed that they should get back together. Her friends knew what happened and she knew she had their support but they also respected her wishes to let her deal with it. But Gold had been furious; he had been ready to jump in the ring on her behalf hardly knowing anything about her past.

Belle shook her head. Best not to dwell on that now. She could think about that later (or never). She hoped he wouldn’t bring it up. It wasn’t something she talked about with anyone, and he wasn’t going to be the exception. It was her life, her past, her problem. She didn’t need anyone else to fight her fight for her. And she was dealing with it, well enough.

Pushing the thoughts away, she took her shower.

Afterwards she went back into the kitchen and Gold suggested pancakes for breakfast and told her to sit back and he would take care of it.

“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she sat down.

“Chocolate chip pancakes happen to be a talent of mine,” Gold said matter-of-factly, getting up to start cooking.

 “Really?” she said, trying to keep a straight face.

 “Oh, indeed, Miss French,” he returned, mock-glaring at her.

 So Belle sat and watched and soon enough, Gold was putting a plate of dinosaur pancakes in front her.

“These are delicious!” she said, grinning at him, after she tried one. “Who knew that the feared Mr. Gold can make such impressive pancakes?”

“Not many, and I’d thank you to keep it that way,” he mock-growled as he sat down with his own plate. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”

The teasing dissolved into laughter.

Gold smiled as he watched Belle eat the pancakes and tried vey hard not to think about the last time he had made dinosaur pancakes and who he had made them for. Those memories would not be conducive to enjoying the precious time he had alone with her. 

As they finished eating, Gold plucked up his courage.

“Belle…” he began, but then faltered, worrying about either of her possible responses to his yet-unasked question.

“Hmm?” she looked up curiously, and it was the warmth in her smile that let him be brave.

“Do you have plans for New Years? If you don’t, I was wondering if you might want to come over for drinks and perhaps a game or two of chess. I have a bottle of Dom Perignon that should be opened.”

He was going to say something more when he realized he was rambling – since when had he been a rambler? – and abruptly stopped, watching her. He figured she probably already had plans, but he wanted to at least ask.

The invitation to come over on New Year’s Eve was fraught with possibility and he hoped she didn’t feel strange or obligated – it could just be a few drinks among friends, but it could also be something more. One more step in the progression of their strange relationship.

Belle didn’t seem horrified at the suggestion, but she bit her lip. “I would love to, but I promised my friends we would do something.”

“Of course, I understand. It’s rather late notice-“ he nodded. He told himself perhaps it was for the best. Their friendship could continue onward without the strange pressures of the holiday.

“But…,” she said, smiling at him, and he dared to hope. “We’re getting together at Jasmine’s parent’s house, and they live in your neighborhood. So perhaps I could hop over for that drink at midnight? I wouldn’t want to keep you from anything though.”

Gold’s heart soared and he fought not to appear too happy. “That would work. I’ll be here. I’m not really one for parties.”

They continued to chat for a while longer before Belle reluctantly said that he should probably head home at some point. As much as she would have loved to, she couldn’t very well stay at his house indefinitely.

Gold walked her to the door and they continued to chat as she put on her coat and boots. 

“Well, Mr. Gold, thank you for everything,” Belle said as he opened the door for her. _Thank you for being here, for being so wonderful, for being willing to fight for me._

“Of course.” He inclined his head. _Always. If you ever need a safe place or a friend or someone to talk to, I want to be that person for you. I…care for you deeply._

They paused in the doorway, each wondering if the other was going to say something more, but then Belle just said softly, “See you on New Year’s Eve,” and she kissed his cheek and walked down the path without looking back.

Gold stood in his doorway and watched her walk away, glad she didn’t look back, his heart light and what he was sure was a goofy-looking smile on his face.  But he didn’t care.

***

That evening found Gold in front of the fire, nursing a glass of wine. Even though he had been able to keep his emotions in check, he hadn’t forgotten the bruises on Belle’s arm. The lightness of earlier had been replaced with a cold anger, and he ran through what he knew.

Someone was bothering Belle, hurting her. From her reaction he thought it was possible whatever was going on had been going on for a long time, and she was resigned to dealing with whoever it was. His eyes narrowed – it was unacceptable for anyone, let alone Belle, to feel as if they had to put up with that type of thing. 

He also knew Maurice French was close friends with Gerard Rose, and as the two men presumably spent a great deal of time together and Belle was sometimes present, as evidenced by Christmas, perhaps it was someone linked to Rose. That could be a place to start, at least. 

Belle was tough and was likely too proud to ever ask for help. So maybe he would just take matters into his own hands. He would figure out what was going on and would take care of it, and she never had to know. 

Gold would pay a visit to the Sheriff the next day to see what he could learn about the Rose family businesses and about the man himself. He and Sheriff Swan were not on the best of terms, but maybe she would tell him something. But even if she wouldn’t, he had certain contacts upon whom he could rely for information.

He pulled out his phone to make some phone calls. Best to put things into motion. Hopefully, one way or another, by the end of the next day, he would have the necessary information to make a move.

***

 


	9. Suspicions

 

December 28

 

At 9:01 Monday morning Gold strode into the Storybrooke Police Department and headed straight to the Sheriff’s desk. 

“Mr. Gold,” said Emma Swann as he approached, looking up somewhat warily. Their paths had crossed in the past, in part because of Gold’s prominence in the town, and in part because of the enmity between Gold and Gerard Rose, but they were not friends.

“Sheriff Swan,” said Gold briskly. “If you have a minute, might we talk?”

“Yes. Do sit down.” Emma nodded at the chairs in front of her desk, and he sat.

“What can you tell me, if anything, of a connection between Belle French and Gerard Rose?” Gold was not one for small talk.

“Why? Gold, if something’s happened, you should file a report and go through the proper legal channels and we’ll take the appropriate steps to address it,” the Sheriff said suspiciously. Such suspicion was not unwarranted, given Gold and Rose’s past and some of the messes that had resulted.

“I like to know what’s going on in this town,” said Gold, unsure how much he was willing to reveal.

“If you know of an incident, you should report it. Otherwise, what were you hoping to gain by coming here?  Information that you could use to take the law into your own hands? Haven’t we been through this before, Gold? There is a set process for how these things are supposed to work.”  Emma frowned at him. The antagonism between Rose and Gold often side-stepped legality, and the Sheriff didn’t like the idea of getting pulled into whatever the most recent problem was.

Gold scowled back, in part because she was right, but also because now if he did find out who was bothering Belle and something “happened” to him, there would be an easy trail back to him.

But even though they weren’t friends, he respected the Sheriff, and in the end his concern for Belle won out. He said softly, “I’m worried someone is bothering the young woman, someone connected to Rose. I…I care about her, and I think she’s too proud to come forward about the harassment.”

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. Gold’s response had been unexpected.  She studied him - she hadn’t thought he cared about anyone, but the look on his face said otherwise. Later she would think it was his softened tone, or the fact that Maurice French had spent plenty of nights in the holding cell for drunk and disorderly conduct and it seemed now that Belle French finally had someone on her side, or the fact that Gaston Rose was a menace, but untouchable because of his father. Whatever it was, she hesitantly began to talk.

“I don’t know anything for certain. I just know that you’re not the first person to come forward to express concern about Belle. A little while ago, when Belle came back from college, one of her friends came to me. The friend said that Belle’s ex-boyfriend from high school was giving her a hard time, and had been for a while. Belle wanted to brush it under the rug, but the friend was worried. Unfortunately, without Belle coming forward and no hard evidence of wrong-doing, legally our hands were tied.”

“Who is it?” Gold’s voice was cold and hard.

Emma met his gaze steadily. “Gaston Rose. Gold, don’t do anything stupid. If you know something, tell me.”

“Thank you Sheriff. I assure you, I will not abuse the confidence you have placed in me by sharing this information.” And Gold stood, nodded to Emma, and left. 

Emma watched him go, her face thoughtful. She realized she didn’t feel bad about disclosing Gaston’s name. If Gold could find an intelligent way to rid Storybrooke of the ass, she would be secretly rooting for him, especially as it would take Gerard Rose down a peg as well.

And it was about time Belle French had a champion.

*** 

That evening Gold paced in front of the fire, cold with anger despite the warmth, pondering his next move. It would have to be something subtle, not clumsy or heavy-handed. Something that no one, least of all Belle, could trace back to him. Something that got Gaston Rose out of Storybrooke for good.

He paused to review his notes, and then picked up his phone, the beginnings of a plan in mind.

 

December 30

It was a tradition for Belle and her father to have brunch at some point during the week between Christmas and New Years, as Mo insisted the holidays were “family time” and the stores and library were closed during that week.

As Belle cleared the plates – she had gone over to his house to cook breakfast – Mo came into the kitchen too.

“Did you hear that Gaston lost his job at the cannery?” 

Belle dropped the plate she had been washing in the sink, grateful the water muffled the sound. Composing herself, she turned to face her father.

“Oh? I hadn’t heard.” _Good_ , she thought savagely to herself. _Serves him right_. 

“Yes, it was quite sudden.” Mo went blithely on, oblivious to Belle’s stiffened posture or the cautious look on her face. “And the thing is, he can’t seem to find another job. He’s inquired at some of the warehouses but no one’s hiring now.”

“Why is this relevant to me? I really don’t care what he’s doing,” said Belle sharply. She hated when her father brought up Gaston and expected her to care. Mo didn’t seem to understand why they weren’t married already.

“Why, my dear, I thought that, considering your past with him, you would be concerned that it looks like he’ll be leaving Storybrooke. The same day he lost his job, he got a phone call from a distant relative in Louisiana offering him a job on a shrimp boat. It’s funny how those things work out, isn’t it?”

“Hmmm,” said Belle distractedly, as she was suddenly struck with the thought that it might not have been a coincidence that Gaston seemed to be getting pushed out of Storybrooke.

“I… um…have to go now,” she said. “Sorry Dad, see you later.” And she left hurriedly, leaving a rather confused-looking Mo in the kitchen.

Belle walked back from where her father lived towards Main Street, thinking about what she had just heard. It couldn’t just be happenstance. Things just didn’t work out like that, not for her at least. 

Someone had intervened. And there was only one person she could think of who had the intelligence and resources to pull something like this off.

Gold.

She felt her heart beat faster as she remembered the anger in his eyes when he saw the bruises. Anger on her behalf, anger that someone had hurt her. But for him to know about Gaston meant that he had dug into her past, when she had told him to let it go. Would he ignore her wishes like that? 

She felt betrayed, but if he had taken such actions on her behalf…what did that mean? Her stomach lurched as she considered that he might feel similarly about her as she did him. She shook her head. No. No no no. If he did, this wasn’t how she wanted to find out.

She walked along Main Street, past the library and the pawnshop, (which, she noted, was open) down to the waterfront and stood out on one of the wharves looking out over the water. Because it was so cold, no one else was out and she was able to try to gather her thoughts in peace.

The most sensible course of action would be to go to his shop and ask him about it, see if he had had any hand in what had happened. Maybe he hadn’t done anything, and then all this worrying was for naught. If he had done something…well, then that would be worth talking about too. She would be mad, but she recognized he had noble intentions.

Yes, that’s what she would do. She would go to the pawn shop and they would have a conversation. Didn’t people always say communication was key? She hesitantly turned to head back to the pawnshop, not sure if it was anger or something else quickening her heartbeat.

 


	10. A Moment of Reckoning

 

Belle walked slowly back towards Main Street and the pawnshop, trying to get her feelings in check and trying to figure out what she as going to say to Gold. She couldn’t just burst in and accuse him of prying into her past. Not when whatever he’d done to get rid of Gaston had been done for her. If he had done something. But what did that mean then?

She shook her head to try to clear her thoughts and felt her heart rate increase as she approached the pawnshop. She was tempted to walk past it, but she took a deep breath and gathered her resolve and tentatively pushed open the door. 

Gold looked up with surprise as she entered. He was pleased, of course, but he hadn’t expected to see her before New Year’s.

“Why, Belle, hello,” he said, with genuine warmth in his voice and smile. “What brings you here?” He walked around to stand in front of the counter and started to walk towards her but then realized he didn’t know what he would do when he reached her. So he paused and watched her walk towards him.

The warmth in his voice and use of her first name almost made Belle reconsider her original undertaking and make up a different reason for stopping by, but she had to know the truth, and postponement wouldn’t make things any easier.

“Hey,” she said softly. She wanted to believe the best of him, but she also wanted to be able to trust him. “There’s something I want to ask you. It might seem silly, but…”

“Do go on,” said Gold. “Is everything alright?”

Belle hesitated and searched for the right words. In the end it seemed there was no subtle way of asking, and the question burst forth. “Did you have anything to do with Gaston Rose loosing his job at the cannery and leaving Storybrooke?”

Gold was only able to keep his face motionless due to years of practice of being stoic and cold. How had she found out?

“Why would I have had anything to do with that?” he asked neutrally, raising an eyebrow.

Something closed off in Belle’s face.

“You answered with a question, ” she said slowly. _A classic avoidance technique._ “Why?” There was hurt in her eyes and voice, and she crossed her arms as she surveyed him, as if unconsciously preparing for a confrontation.

“The man was a nuisance and trouble. He needed no help from me to get fired. I don’t know why you’re jumping to conclusions, and I don’t know why you would care.” Gold’s voice had hardened, almost imperceptibly, but Belle caught the change. He recognized he was very close to crossing a line, but how quickly she had realized what he had done threw him off. He hadn’t meant for her to find out. He didn’t know how to tell her.

She flushed. “Yes, he’s bounced around from job to job, but he’s always managed to find a new one. But where you come in is the fact that he can’t seem to do that anymore, and the fact that a new job opportunity just seemed to miraculously appear half way across the country. Did you have a hand in it or not? I don’t appreciate the lying.”

“Are you calling me a liar, Miss French?” Gold’s voice had become soft and dangerous. Part of him realized that he was being horribly unfair. He should have confessed from the beginning what he did and why and ask for her forgiveness, but he didn’t have much practice in controlling his temper. Of course he wasn’t angry at her, but rather at Gaston and that she hadn’t been supposed to find out, and at himself, and anger was an easy default. The persona of intimidation and disdain that he had worn for so long was too easy to pull on and the fact that he wanted to conceal how he really felt about her compounded matters.

Belle glared at him. She hadn’t missed his use of ‘Miss French,’ and she was partly aware that things were spiraling out of control, but she could be stubborn too. “Maybe I am, but you’re not very good at it. Answering another question with a question. If you didn’t do it, a simple “no” would have sufficed.” Her voice almost broke during the last sentence, and though she still looked at him defiantly, there was hurt in her eyes that almost broke his heart.

There was still a chance to fix everything. But Gold had spent too much time alone with his anger and insecurity and being defensive and cold came too naturally, so he said, his voice hard, “Maybe I did have something to do with it. But the man was a misogynistic brute and the town is better off with him far away. I don’t see what the fuss is.”

Belle took a deep breath and sent a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening that she not start to cry. That would be just perfect, as if she wasn’t humiliated enough. She took a deep breath, and said, “I’m very happy to see him gone from Storybrooke and I hope he never returns. That’s not the issue. You looked into my past didn’t you? That’s why this happened just now, after…after you saw. You figured out who it was…”

She looked at him with a silent plea for an explanation or alternate reason.

Gold struggled to answer. “He was hurting you,” he finally said. His voice was almost a growl and the tenor of his voice sent a tremor though her and she felt her heart skip a beat. Their eyes met and held. His eyes were narrowed in anger, but there was an intensity in his gaze and deeper emotions - concern, pain, yearning.

They had come to be standing quite close together, as Belle had stepped towards him as she had leveled the accusations. She met him look for look and her heart beat faster as she realized his eyes betrayed a depth of feeling that he was unlikely to put into words. For a moment she was so tempted to close the small distance between them and kiss him, to feel the desire expressed in his gaze. She didn’t doubt he would reciprocate.

But she just said softly, “You can’t just do that, you know. Play god, like the Count of Monte Cristo. That only works in books. My past is my own. My secrets are my own to keep." 

Gold looked away and when he looked back any anger was gone and there was such tenderness that she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears, and so before he could speak she turned and strode out of the pawnshop. Her face flushed and heart beating too fast, she barely made it out the door before the tears came.

Gold numbly watched her leave and then locked the pawnshop door turning the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed.’ He then went into the backroom and sat, staring blindly ahead and feeling empty inside.

He had lost her. Of course she had figured it out. He was so ashamed of what had happened. And he hadn’t even been able to explain. She deserved an explanation, she deserved so much more. She had been a ray of light in his life, and he had been awful to her and had let her leave.

She had every right to be furious with him, but maybe there was a chance he could try to salvage what they had, if she would talk to him… Maybe after New Year’s he would try. He owed it to her to at lest try to explain. 

 


	11. It's About Time You Had A Champion

The pawnshop door had barely closed behind Belle before the tears came and she hurriedly crossed the street to go up to her apartment. She had her head bowed and so she didn’t realize Ruby was there until she almost bumped into her.

“What- oh, hi Ruby,” Belle stammered, having forgotten that Ruby had promised to stop by after her brunch with her father to cheer her up. But she didn’t want to talk about this with anyone. “Sorry, this isn’t a good time, maybe later-”

“Belle, what’s going on?” Ruby demanded, not letting her finish. “You came out of the pawnshop in tears. What did he-“

“I’m fine, it’s nothing, but I want to be alone,” said Belle, pushing past her friend to go upstairs.

But Ruby followed her. “Belle…is this about some loan agreement with Gold? Is he giving you a hard time?”

She took a deep breath and said quietly, “No, nothing like that. It’s really nothing.”

“Belle…it’s obviously not nothing. Here, let me make some tea and we can sit and you can tell me if you want or not. I also have cookie dough and Disney movies, because those are always good if one is in need of a cheering-up.”

Belle paused outside her apartment, resting her forehead against the door. There was to be no dissuading Ruby. Ruby could be dramatic and over-the-top on occasion, and was always the one to push to stay out all night on their nights out, but she was a wonderful friend, fiercely loyal and protective of those she cared about, and someone you wanted in your corner. Belle sighed, and figured she was going to have to tell her friends eventually, so she might as well start with Ruby.

She turned and gave her friend a tentative smile. “That sounds nice, Ruby. And I guess there’s no other way to get you to go away.”

“Nope!” Ruby went straight to the kitchen as Belle opened the door. “You sit down and I’ll bring the tea right out. Or,” she said, sticking her head back out, “we could do wine if you want something stronger.”

“Ha, no, tea should be fine.”

Belle sank into the sofa and put her head in her hands. Trying to talk to Gold had completely fallen apart. So much for having an honest conversation. And to run out at the end… To see the care and concern in his eyes, to realize he might just feel similarly about her as she did him, on top of all the other emotions, had been too much. She still wasn’t sure if he could really feel that way about her…he was rich and powerful and worldly and brilliant, and she was the town librarian. But a small voice pointed out that she had seen that look in his eyes after he knew about her past and after their conversation had spiraled out of control.

Maybe, just maybe, he would accept her apology. He was the only person who had ever stood up for her against Gaston, and she should have thanked him for it instead of throwing it in his face. She didn’t like that he had looked into her past or that he had been evasive (too many men in her past had been so), but those were things they should be able to move past, right?

She would have to go back and talk to him. Again. Hopefully it would go better the second time. Maybe after New Year’s.

Ruby came out of the kitchen with tea and cookie dough. Belle took a shaky breath and tried to collect herself.

“Thank you Ruby, this is lovely,” she said.

“No problem, lady,” said Ruby. “Do you want to talk, or do you want to hear the latest news on Mary Margaret and David?”

Belle gave her friend a weak smile. “As tempting as that sounds, there is something I’ve thought I should talk about with you for a little while now.”

“I’m always here to listen.”

Belle bit her lip. She wasn’t sure how to start, so she decided she might as well begin at the beginning.

“A little while ago I went over to Mr. Gold’s pawnshop because there was a certain author I was interested in. That started…something, and over the past month we’ve become friends of a sort, I think. I don’t know – he’s so interesting to talk to and he can be so sweet. The day after Christmas, the day of the blizzard, I ended up sleeping over at his house, and-“

“So you and Gold, eh? You found yourself quite the man!” Ruby smirked and elbowed her friend.

“No, no, nothing like that. Nothing happened-“ Belle could feel herself blushing.

“But did you want it to?” Ruby raised an eyebrow evilly.

“I…I would not be opposed to things progressing further,” said Belle diplomatically. “And it seems like he might not be opposed either. He even invited me over for New Year’s. But that’s besides the point. I think I might have just messed everything up.”

Ruby sobered up. “And that’s why you were so upset just now? What happened?”

“Well… I had brunch with my dad, as you know. He told me that Gaston was fired and was having trouble getting rehired in Storybrooke but had had a job offer in Louisiana. The timing seemed too perfect to be a coincidence. My immediate thought was that Gold had done something, because he saw the bruises from Christmas, and had gotten so angry, but I didn’t tell him anything, so if he knew, he would have had to look into my past.

So I went to the pawnshop to ask him about it, but that conversation didn’t go very well. He did have a hand in it and was defensive and I didn’t behave vey well. I was upset he had looked into my past, but even then, the way he looked at me was so gentle, and I was already emotional, and so I ran out so he wouldn’t see me cry.

And now I just feel stupid and I want to go apologize but what’s he going to think of me now?”

“Belle.” Ruby cut her off. “The answer is obviously for you to go over on New Year’s. That invitation is still open, isn’t it? You go over and talk and patch things and kiss at midnight and start off the New Year right. You’ll have to call me the next day and give me all the details, like what the most feared man in town is like in bed-“

“Ruby!” Belle shoved Ruby, who had started laughing. “I don’t know about that. He probably wouldn’t want to deal with that on New Year’s. But…the idea of me and Gold…do you think it could actually work, if we could patch things up? I just don’t know…”

Ruby was quiet for a minute. “While at first it was pretty surprising, the more I think about it, the more right it seems. You’re the smartest person I know, and it seems you’ve finally met your intellectual match. Plus he’s the most powerful man in town and everyone’s afraid of him, and that’s pretty hot. He’s rather dashing, he definitely has a sort of old world charm. And he’s willing to fight for you. It’s about time you’ve had someone like that in your life. Go for it. He could be the one.”

“Thank you,” said Belle softly. “I just hope… I feel pretty silly. And I’m scared. Scared because of how I feel about him, and scared that he returns those feelings. I’m scared I’m not good enough for him-“

“Belle French.” Ruby’s voice was firm. “Stop that kind of talk. You came back to Storybrooke after college to help your father. It’s not your fault that you’ve done everything you can to keep Game of Thorns alive and it’s still struggling or that you help your father make rent every month even if it means you have almost nothing left over. You can not let how your father and Gaston have treated you to shape your view of yourself. They’re a bunch of bastards, and you’re so much more.

I think you and Gold can be great together. Go, talk to him on New Year’s. I think he’ll be more forgiving than you think. I think you both have shadows in your past, but together you can move forward. Stop over thinking things. Just go, and tell him how you feel.”

“Oh Ruby, you’re so wonderful,” said Belle, hugging her friend tightly. “I don’t know about New Year’s, but thank you so much. Thank you for listening to me being silly. Thank you for believing in me.”

“Always. Now, which Disney movie should we watch? How about Beauty and the Beast? That’s always a good one, and seems rather fitting for your situation.”

Belle rolled her eyes but agreed, and they passed a lovely afternoon.

“So, you should at least come to Jasmine’s party. That way you’ll at least be in the right part of town if you do want to pursue the illustrious Mr. Gold,” said Ruby, as she got ready to leave, grinning Belle.

“I think I can make it to Jasmine’s, at least,” said Belle, smiling reluctantly back.

“Good. Then you’re half way there. And I’ll push you the other half!”

“I don’t know, but thank you so much for listening. You always manage to say the right thing.”

“That’s what friends are for. Don't overthink things!” And Ruby left, to head back to the diner.

***

Gold sat in his living room on New Year’s Eve, reflecting that being alone that evening wasn’t all that different from how he spent most of his time.

But although in general he had been able to come to a relative peace with that, that night his thoughts were made bitter by the shadows of what could have been. If only he had talked to her first. If only… He could understand why she would be upset he had looked into her past. He more than anyone should know the value of privacy and the pain an unwillingly revealed past could bring. And he hadn’t behaved very admirably either, when she had tried to talk to him.

As it neared eleven, he started to consider dipping into one of his bottles of expensive scotch. It would be a way to numb being alone. Deciding the hell with it, he poured himself a glass and sat back down. He drank it too quickly – such expensive liquor should be savored – but for his purposes it wasn’t quick enough. He had just poured himself a second glass when there was a knocking at the door.

Not allowing himself to hope, but not able to come up with a reason for anyone else to be there, he went to answer.

It was Belle. He felt his heart skip a beat. She looked nervous, but as he opened the door, she smiled a tentative smile and he smiled back.

“Mr. Gold,” she said softly. “I’m sorry for how things ended the last time we talked. But if that invitation for a New Year’s drink is still open, can I take you up on it? I’d like to try this whole talking thing again.”

It took him a moment to find his voice. “Of course. Do come in. And I’m sorry too.”


	12. Together

 

Gold stepped back to let Belle step inside. She slowly walked into the entrance hall. Neither of them said anything as she shrugged off her coat and took off her boots. Gold’s heart caught in his throat as, having hung up her coat, she turned to look at him.

She was wearing tight black jeans and a silky blue blouse that matched her eyes. There were spots of color on her cheeks from the cold and her hair was in a bun, but some of it had escaped to frame her face. Gold struggled to believe that this beautiful, intelligent woman was in his house.

“Shall we go into the living room? It is a good place for talking,” he said, hoping his voice sounded normal.

Belle just nodded and followed him into the room. He was impeccably dressed, as always, in a nice suit and she offhandedly wondered if he ever wore anything else. She chose not to sit but to stand in front of the fireplace, and so he didn’t sit either, but rather stood by the fireplace as well.

There was a fire, and it crackled as they stood regarding each-other.

“Belle, I-“ Gold began finally, but Belle interrupted him. She wanted to say her piece first and was worried she would lose her nerve.

“Before you say what you were going to say, I want to say thank you.” Her voice was tremulous, her eyes bright. “Thank you for getting Gaston out of Storybrooke. I think I know why you did it,” and her eyes met his.  “It means so much. I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday. I feel rather silly now.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Gold’s voice was soft as well, and he sought to convey all he felt about her as their eyes met. “I am sorry as well. You were right. Everyone has parts of their past they would rather stay there and it should be their decision whether or not to share them. I know what it is like to jealously guard those secrets. And I too am sorry for my behavior the other day.”

Belle smiled tentatively, and said, “No more apologies. Perhaps we can agree that that was not our finest moment?”

He returned her smile and dared to hope. “Indeed. And,” he hesitated, “perhaps we can move past the events of the other day? It is New Year’s Eve, a good time to begin anew…”

“I like the sound of that,” Belle said softly.

Gold slowly took the few steps to close the distance between them. He searched her face, looking for a clue, hoping he wasn’t mistaken that the same spark of desire he felt was mirrored in her eyes.

They stood for a moment, quite close, and she swallowed, trying to get past the tightness in her throat. The firelight softened the hard lines of his face and caught in his eyes, and the passion there sent a thrill of excitement through her.

“Perhaps now is also a time for new beginnings,” he said, his voice low. He slowly reached out and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and let his fingers trace her jaw, noting how her eyes darkened slightly and her breath caught.

His fingers were warm and slightly rough and she suppressed a shiver at his touch. Almost as if to assure herself that the moment was real, she in turn reached out to push back a bit of his hair.

Gold’s eyes flickered closed at the contact; it had been soft, almost like a butterfly touch and he wanted more. As he opened them again, he decided this was the time for bravery. She had taken the first step, by coming over that night, and he could take the second. 

He took the final step towards he, and leaned forward to gently brush his lips against hers. As he pulled back, the words of apology for over-stepping were already on his tongue.

But Belle cupped his face, gently rubbing her thumb over his cheek, and pressed her lips to his. His hand went to her waist to pull her closer and he deepened the kiss. It was as if something had been released as their mouths touched and there was a fierceness to the kisses, an outpouring of passion that until then had only lurked in dreams or late-night introspection or heated glances.

Belle pressed herself to him, responding pressure for pressure, losing herself in the feel of his mouth on hers, opening under her, tongue touching her mouth lightly, gently, almost asking her permission to continue. And she touched back, just as gently, the rush of taste and touch and smell that invaded her senses drowning out anything else.

Gold nudged her toward the sofa. If they weren’t standing, he would have both hands free and they somewhat haltingly made their way over. But as they reached it and Belle pulled at him, his bad leg slipped and he fell forward, pushing her down on the sofa and ending up on top of her.

“Umph. I’m sorry, I’ll-“ And he made to straighten up.

But she laughed softly and caught his shirt. “No more apologies, remember?” There was a playful glint in her eye, so instead of getting up he placed little kisses along her jaw to her throat and nipped at the sensitive spot behind her ear and she squirmed delightfully beneath him.

The part of his mind not completely fogged by desire and arousal noted things were progressing quite quickly and he told himself he wouldn’t let them go any further. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have some fun in the mean time…

Belle’s shirt had become untucked and Gold slipped his hand underneath. She was so warm and soft and the little noise she made seemed to go straight to his groin and he briefly thought that the longer they kept this up the harder it would be to stop. But then her hands were tangling in his hair to pull him in for a kiss and anyways, thought was overrated.

He traced his fingers up her side, smiling as he felt a lacy bra, and then trailed his fingers back down. In what he meant to be a playful move, he ran his finger under the top of her jeans, tracing the soft skin.

Belle tensed, almost imperceptibly, and turned her head to the side, breaking the kiss, almost as if inviting him to kiss her neck, but he sensed something was wrong and straightened up.

“Belle?” he asked softly, concern in his voice. He was breathing hard and so was she.

She sat up as well. Something had closed off in her face and when she spoke she didn’t look at him. “It’s nothing…nothing to do with you…it’s just…what happened at Christmas and with him in general still weighs on my mind and surfaces at inopportune moments…I’m…I’m sorry.”

Gold took a deep breath and pushed back the surge of anger towards Gaston. If that bastard ever came back to Storybrooke… But this was not the time for that.

“Belle,” he said, taking her hands, choosing his words carefully. “You never have to apologize for anything like that. I… I’m so sorry you had to deal with him for as long as you did.

I hope you know I would never ask anything more of you than you wanted to give. I think a relationship, especially the physical, intimate side of things, is only pleasurable if it is so for both persons involved, if it is something both persons want. Consent must be freely given, there must be respect and trust, or else…”

He trailed off, shaking his head, unsure how to finish the thought. Belle moved close to him and gave him a weak smile and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” she said, here voice scarcely above a whisper, and then looked away again. “I did know that, but it means a lot that you would say it. I’ve never been great with relationships. Somehow things just never seem to work out. That’s one reason I ran out of the shop the other day, before you could say anything more – I was afraid of my feelings for you. That you would stand up for me, that you didn’t care about my past…”

Gold felt his heart contract painfully. He wanted to hold her close and tell her he would never hurt her, he would only let her go if she wanted him to, he would always be there for her, but that might be too much.

_I think I love you, but perhaps those are words for another time._

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Belle. What happened isn’t your fault. He won’t hurt you again. And, as I remember, it was when you came into the pawnshop with _Doctor Faustus_ that we began to talk. So maybe you should give yourself more credit. And I think what this town thinks of me shows just how good I am with building relations with people. But maybe we can figure this out together?”

“Yes, I think we most definitely can,” she said softly, and he was rewarded with a genuine smile. “Perhaps we can toast to that? I believe I was promised a fancy bottle of champagne if I came over on New Year’s.” Her tone had turned playful.

“Aye, and I always follow through on my promises.” Gold returned her smile and they went into the kitchen to get the champagne and glasses and a box of chocolate and then returned to the living room.

Gold poured out two glasses and handed one to Belle.

He raised his glass. “To you, my dear.”

Belle raised her own. “To us.”

They clinked glasses and she reached to stroke his cheek and kissed him softly. “To the future.”

And they sat on the sofa together, Belle almost in his lap, one leg hooked over his, both savoring the closeness, sipping champagne and trading chocolate and kisses and talking of small things.

As they neared the end of the champagne, Gold said softly, “Belle, you are welcome to stay the night again. I have a guest bedroom, unless you prefer the sofa.“ _Or…we don’t_ have _to be apart…_

“Or…what about with you?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, a ghost of the playful smile from before on her face, the glint in her eye suggesting just what she meant.

“That could be arranged, most certainly.” His voice was low and rich and steady, hiding the fact that his heart had skipped, and it sent tingles down her spine and his eyes had darkened. “But are you sure?”

Belle looked into his face, his eyes full of love and fire, and thought about the connection they seemed to share, how the past month had been one of the happiest in a long time, how he was willing to fight for her, and she was sure.

_I think I might love you, so yes, I am so sure. I want you._

She got to her feet and offered him her hand and he stood up as well. Intertwining her fingers with his, she kissed him – a kiss of promise and passion – and murmured in his ear, “Yes. It is time to move beyond the shadows of the past. Here’s to the start of something new, together?” 

“Together,” he echoed hoarsely, and they made their way upstairs to the master bedroom.

 

 ***

 


	13. A Happy New Year Indeed

 

They walked together up the stairs and to the end of the hallway, and Gold pushed open the door to his bedroom. Slowly they moved to the center of the room, Gold making sure the light stayed off. He briefly acknowledged that that wasn’t a long-term solution by any means, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on at the moment, especially not in that moment.

There were floor to ceiling windows on the eastern wall of the room, which offered an excellent view of the ocean during the day, and enough light came in that they could see each-other’s outline, but details were left in the shadows.

As they stood together, fingers still intertwined, Belle was suddenly unsure. She had initiated this, yes, but could he really want her? But then Gold was leaning his cane against the nightstand and he brought both hands up to cup her face and then he was kissing her, and she was sure.

Belle moved her hands to his chest and stepped closer. Gold ran his hands down her sides and over her hips to her bottom and as he pulled her to him he gave a little squeeze and was rewarded by her grinding into him and he made a strangled sound deep in his throat. How he had wanted this, how he wanted her…he wanted to shove her onto the bed and take her, but all in good time.

They broke off the kisses and stood, foreheads touching, reveling in their closeness. Gold ran a thumb along her collarbone, and as their mouths came together again, he started to undo the buttons on her blouse, and she moved to undo his tie. The buttons were small and he didn’t have the necessary patience, so he ended up ripping the shirt.

“So sorry, my dear,” he murmured in her ear, not actually sorry at all, and he made to slide the shirt off.

“I appreciate the urgency,” she murmured back, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Having undone his tie, Belle paused in undoing his shirt buttons to let him take her blouse off. His hands moved to her hips to pull her closer – his touch was warm and slightly rough and how she wanted more – and she quickly finished with his shirt buttons and pushed it off to reveal a black short-sleeved undershirt. She moved her hands back to his chest and felt his muscles tense under her touch.

Gold slowly slid his hands to the waistband of her jeans and his mouth found hers in what he hoped was a reassuring kiss. He deftly undid the button and unzipped the zipper and she trembled in anticipation to have his hands there, so close. Surely he let them linger on purpose… But then he was tugging down the jeans and she readily stepped out of them.

In turn, Belle reached to unbuckle his belt and undo the buttons and slide down his pants. She let her fingers deliberately drag over the proof of his arousal and he made a sound deep in his throat and the kisses became harder, more demanding and he pushed her towards the bed. He fleetingly worried he was being too rough as they sprawled onto the bed, him on top, his knee between her legs, but her kisses and her hands tangled in his hair showed her submission to be more than willing and that she was as turned on as he was.

Belle found Gold’s taking charge of matters thrilling. He had only ever been gentle with her, and to see another side of him, to see how much he wanted her, was thoroughly arousing. He kissed down her neck to bite at her shoulder and she hoped it would leave a mark. She wanted to be marked by him. Restlessly, she moved her hips against him, lost in sensation, not knowing whether she was trying to heighten or release the growing pressure there.

Gold slipped a hand under her back to unclasp her bra and she arched her back to help him and his breath caught at the feel of her against him. He dropped a kiss in the hollow at the base of her neck and then took one of her nipples into his mouth. She arched into him as he licked and teased, whilst a lazy thumb drew across the tip of the other breast, sending electric shivers down her spine straight to the spot between her legs, already swollen and semi-aroused just from the kissing 

The little whimpering sound she made resonated deep within him, but he smiled. This was more about her than about him, this was about rewriting memories, about him showing his love for her. But then she was reaching to take off his undershirt, and he had a flash of insecurity. But they had come that far and it was dark and her touch was so soft and so reluctantly he let her pull it off. Her hands ran up his back, tracing the muscles, clenching as he moved his own hand down.

He slowly trailed his fingers down over her stomach, but then he paused. 

"Are you alright, my dear?" he murmured, remembering earlier and wanting to make sure was was in the same place he was. 

"I'm fantastic," she murmured back, kissing him. 

He moved his hand lower to stroke her through her panties. How wet she was…and for him! He felt a surge of pride – this beautiful, intelligent woman had chosen him, wanted him to be her lover.

Belle gasped and twisted against his touch. She wanted more, she wanted to feel him directly, but he took his time, teasing her, before he slipped his hand underneath, and she imagined him smiling. She reached down and together they pushed the panties off. Then he was touching her again, his skillful fingers seeming to know just how.

“Wait,” Belle said thickly, grabbing his wrist. She was so close, but she wanted him to be with her in that moment.

“Is something wrong?” He was breathing hard.

“No.” She was also panting. “But …not like this… with you.”

Gold’s heart swelled and he kissed her soundly. Belle moved her hands down his torso to slide off his boxer briefs, and he bit back a groan as the material rubbed against him. Then she was stroking him and his hips bucked reflexively and he had to choke out, “No… wait… together.”

Gold crushed his mouth against hers as he positioned himself between her legs.

“You are sure, my love?” Gold’s breathing was ragged and could barely get the words out, he wanted her so.

“Yes, so sure.” Her breathing was equally strained. “I want you…please…”

“And I want you." 

Gold felt fire spike through him as Belle’s hand closed around him, guiding him to where he needed to be.

That touch was what finally broke his control, the point at which driving physical need overrode any semblance of rational thought. Instinct and desire took hold, and he drove forward. Aware of the body beneath him, but beyond any possibility of restraining herself any longer, he thrust, no longer aware of where she ended and he began. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the blood rushing in his ears and the fingernails digging into his back and the movements under him, meeting him and matching him, pushing him onwards, until she arched into him, shuddering. A moment later she felt him swell harder still into her and take up her shuddering into his own, her name on his lips.

They stayed together, reluctant to separate, but then Gold eased out of her and shifted just a little so that he was next to her and not on top. They lay close, his arms around her and her hands on his chest, foreheads touching.

“How are you?” Gold asked, his voice still thick from arousal and his breathing still heavy. He reached to push back some of her hair and stroke her cheek.

“Wonderful,” Belle said softly, her breathing yet to return to normal. “And you?”

“Excellent. Couldn’t be better.”

“Now…will you just hold me?" 

“Of course.”

They moved under the duvet and Belle shifted so that her back was to his front. He put an arm around her, pulling her close, his hand resting on her stomach, and she put her hand on top of his.

Belle drifted off to sleep quickly and Gold listened to her breathing deepen. When he was sure she was sleeping he slipped out from under the covers, carefully taking his arm away from her. He pulled on his boxers and the undershirt and then limped over to his chest of drawers to get a pair of pajama pants.

 He paused before getting back in bed, biting his lip. He had never much cared for his appearance – not particularly tall, slight of build, not conventionally attractive – and even though he told himself that Belle chose him, that she wanted him, it was one thing to know it in the rational part of his brain, but the irrational part was still unconvinced. Would she regret it the next day? Would she look at him and think how had such a thing happened? He shook his head. There was a beautiful, wonderful woman in his bed, and he wasn’t going to be away from her for longer than he had to.

As Gold got back under the covers and put his arm back around her, Belle made a little sound of content and snuggled closer to him. He allowed himself to be happy and pushed away the insecurities.

***

Belle woke up before Gold the next morning, and for a little while she enjoyed the warmth and closeness of his embrace. She was so happy… the night before had been magical, but she hoped there would be many more similar ones.

Finally she sat up, careful not to wake him, and looked around, blinking in the pale winter sunlight. His room really was the master bedroom, with the large bed and the floor-to-ceiling windows and ocean view. Much of the wall space was taken up with bookshelves, with books and other antiquities.

Belle looked at Gold, on the pillows next to her, and felt her heart soar. Sleep softened the lines in his face, and he looked very much at peace. It was so different from the wary look he normally wore around town, and closer to the one he wore when he would look at her.

She got up, intending to go over to the bookshelves, but then she paused. Looking around, she located her underwear and bra and put them on, just in case there was any awkwardness at the first time. She hoped there wouldn’t be; she certainly had no regrets and hoped for an encore soon, but still, in one night they had gone from wherever they had been before to waking up together.

She noticed that he too had put some clothes back on at some point during the night, and she filed it away as something they could work on. It was early on in their relationship and there were bound to be some insecurities, but she would do all she could to show him that she loved him and thought him the most handsome man. 

Belle thought about putting her shirt back on, but most of the buttons were ripped, and she smiled as she had a better idea and picked up his shirt. Finding a book that suited her fancy on one of the bookshelves, she got back into bed and waited for him to wake up. She had gotten a few chapters in when he shifted beside her.

“Good morning, my dear,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep, propping himself up on an elbow to smile at her.

“Hey,” she said, smiling back. She put the book on the night table and shifted down so that they were level.

“I hope you slept well. The shirt suits you.” She noted with pleasure how his eyes darkened slightly as he took in what she was wearing, especially the fact that the top few buttons were undone.

“I slept quite well. And I think I’ll keep the shirt. You owe me one, anyways,” she said playfully, raising her eyebrows at him in mock disapproval.

He laughed softly. “You’re welcome to it, my dear.” And he leaned over for a kiss.

The kisses stayed sweet and playful, and Gold drew back before they could turn into anything more. At the question in her eyes, he suggested breakfast and was grateful when she agreed without further follow-up. He might be the most feared man in Storybrooke and not give a damn what anyone else thought about him, but when it came to Belle he cared so much that it was almost painful. With time, perhaps, those issues would pass, but so far their time together had been perfect, and he didn’t want to ruin that.

So together they went down to the kitchen to cook breakfast, Belle still just wearing his shirt, which he thoroughly enjoyed watching her move around the kitchen in, and him wearing his pajama pants, probably the most casual clothes he had worn downstairs in a long time. 

They decided on omelets for breakfast, and prepared them together. Again, Gold noted how natural it felt for them to work in the kitchen together, and how there wasn’t any awkwardness from the night before. As they sat next to each other at the kitchen table – previously they had sat across from each other – Gold dared to let himself hope that this could become routine.

After breakfast they parted, somewhat reluctantly. Belle invited Gold over to dinner at her apartment and told him she was taking the shirt and he readily agreed to both. Their goodbye kiss was such that they both reconsidered parting ways, but finally Belle did leave, and Gold stood in the doorway watching her until she was out of sight.

Belle smiled broadly as she headed back to the center of Storybrooke and pulled out her phone to call Ruby and fill her in.

 


	14. Interruptions

 

 

As Belle walked down the street away from Gold’s house, she pulled out her phone. She hadn’t checked it since before Jasmine’s party the night before, and so there were a number of text messages, mostly New Year’s messages and ones from Ruby. 

Ruby. 11:09 pm.   _Good luck lady! Keep me updated_

Ruby. 11:42 pm. _Soooooo? You didn’t come back to Jasmine’s…which presumably means you didn’t chicken out…which means I NEED AN UPDATE_

Ruby. 11:43 pm. _Actually, you don’t need to update me because if you’re there you shouldn’t have your phone out because you should be doing other things ;)_

Ruby. 11:45 pm. _BUT I WANT ALL THE DETAILS TOMORROW CALL MEEEEE_

Ruby. 12:06 am. _HAPPY NEW YEAR! Props for starting the new year off right ;)_

Belle smiled and shook her head. She figured the walk back to her apartment was as good a time as any to fill Ruby in, and the cold weather made it so the streets would be empty so no one would be out to watch her walk home from Gold’s house. Not that she cared who knew, but she would prefer if this wasn’t how people found out. The rumors that would circulate were another thing they should probably talk about. Or something she at least should prepare herself for. But that was for another day. Today she was too happy to think about that.

Ruby picked up right away and didn’t let her even say hello.

“Soooo?! What happened? How did it go?”

“Happy New Year’s to you too, Rubes,” Belle said ruefully. She held the phone a little away from her ear, glad again for the empty streets. “It went really well. We were able to talk and, like you said, he was more-“

“Yeah, yeah, so you talked,” Ruby interrupted her. “I wanna know what happened after that!”

“Well… I slept over again-“

“I already gathered that, Sherlock.” Belle could picture Ruby rolling her eyes. “What I want to know is if any sleeping was actually done!”

For a third time Belle was grateful for the empty streets so no one would see how much she was blushing.  “There was some sleeping…eventually.”

“AND?! How was it? How was he? He looks like he would know what he’s doing in the bedroom…”

“Ruby!” But for all that she was blushing, there was more to Belle than the reserved front most of the town saw. “Well… he really does know what he’s doing. It was amazing, an exhilarating mix of sweetness and passion. He’s skillful and attentive and it was a very special night. But what do you mean – ‘he looks like he knows what he’s doing?’”

“Ahhh!  I’m so happy for you!! And just that the way he stalks around town like he owns it, with his fancy suits and sexy sneer…he looks like he’d take control but wouldn’t be selfish-“

“Alright,” Belle cut her friend off. Ruby didn’t need to know how accurate her assessment was. “That’s enough of that. Let’s just say he’s wonderful.”

 “We can say that. So there really is something between you guys now?”

“I… I guess so. I don’t know what to call it. ‘Boyfriend’ seems all wrong.”

“Yeah…you definitely don’t call a man like Gold ‘boyfriend.’ Maybe ‘lover’ or ‘paramour’ or-“

“Haha. ‘Paramour’ for sure,” said Belle sarcastically. “I don’t really know. I suppose we’ll just see what happens. But anyways, how was Jasmine’s party?”

Talking about the party and other things lasted them for the rest of the walk and Belle bid Ruby farewell as she approached the library. 

Her happy mood persisted for the rest of the day (Saturday) and into the next. Sunday afternoon found her missing Gold and occupying herself by wondering what to cook for dinner when he came over. She thought about calling him to see if he had preferences or allergies and just to chat, when she realized she didn’t have his phone number.

She paused, thoughtful, in the middle of looking up Indian food recipes and wondering how many dishes she could feasibly cook (they all looked delicious). Theirs was an unconventional relationship in so many ways, and this was just one more, but it was a bit disconcerting to realize she wasn’t sure how to contact him when the pawn shop wasn’t open. At least it was almost Monday.

Once she had decided she would stop by the next day, her recipe searches switched from Indian food to deserts. She did have a reputation to maintain, after all, and wanted to find something suitable to bring over.

***

Sunday found Gold irritably sitting at home. He missed Belle’s presence and his mood was not improved by the realization that he couldn’t call her to talk because he didn’t have her number. He felt an odd pang of loss that he wasn’t sure how to contact her. He supposed he could stop by the library around closing time…that at least would be better than dropping by her apartment, which could just be weird. Upon deciding on his course of action, his mood improved marginally.

Maybe it was a good thing to give her some space.

But he still missed her. 

***

Monday found Belle anxiously watching the time, eager for the day to be over so she could go over to the pawn shop. Finally at 6, because she was the only one working and there had hardly been anyone in all day and she really wanted to see Gold, she decided to close the library early so that she would be sure to catch him before he went home.

As she crossed the street, she felt a flash of nervousness but pushed it away and was happy to see that the pawn show was still open. She pushed open the door tentatively and stepped inside but her apprehension vanished when Gold looked up from the counter to smile at her. Their eyes met and for a moment neither moved.

“Belle!” And he quickly moved to close the distance between them and caught her up in a tight hug. She pressed her face into his chest and realized how much she had missed him. When he stepped back – only enough so that they could see each other’s faces - she missed his arms around her.

“Hey,” she said softly. 

“Hey,” he returned, his voice equally soft, a brightness in his face. “I was going to stop by the library to say hello, but you beat me too it.”

“I guess I did,” she said. “I realized I don’t have your phone number, and that rather complicates planning anything.”

“Oh right, of course. I realized that too.” He stopped himself before he said anything more and admitted how much he had missed her and hurriedly turned to go get his own phone.

“There we go,” said Belle, once they had exchanged numbers. “But since I’m here, I can ask you in person. How does Indian food sound, maybe for Wednesday?” She had toyed with the idea of Tuesday, but she wanted to give him his space if he wanted it.

“That sounds excellent on both accounts.”

“Great! I was looking up recipes and some of the Indian ones look like they would be interesting to try. But then I got sidetracked on desserts and well… would you like to try what came of that?”

“Would I? Do you even need to ask?” Gold raised an eyebrow.

“Haha. I present to you… peanut butter brownie bars. I hope you’re not allergic to anything?” She added the last question anxiously as she pulled out the container. 

“I’m not allergic to anything. These look delicious. I think I have milk in the fridge in the back. That might be a better accompaniment than tea. I trust you are staying long enough to eat these with me?” He gave her a look of mock seriousness.

“Milk sounds lovely, and yes, I think I can stick around for a bit.” _For more than just a bit..._ _  
_

“Good. I just realized, I don’t think you’ve ever seen the back part of the shop, have you? It’s where I keep the things I’m not sure about selling or the artifacts or antiques I’m holding for buyers. I’ve developed some skill in procuring rare artifacts over the years, and so at any given point I usually have some interesting antiquities back here. Actually, this timing works out quite well, because I just received some very rare books that I’m holding for a collector. I was hoping you would get the chance to see them before he picks them up.”

As Gold had been talking, they moved to the back room and Belle looked around with wonder. If she had thought the shop was filled with interesting things, it was nothing to this room. There was a sofa and table and an armchair and a counter with a sink and a kettle and a mini-fridge, but most of the room was shelves with all manner of objects on them. The wall space was taken up with old maps, some of which were being held for collectors and some of which were part of Gold’s own collection.

“Wow,” said Belle, looking around. “It’s as if the shop is a front and all the interesting business happens here. 

“That is not an untrue assessment,” said Gold, amused. “Many of the more noteworthy items are back here.”

“This is like where Indiana Jones would come for consultation or protection when he was trying to save the world while on the run from the Nazis. Just think – he could come to you because you would have the only remaining copy of the book that tells how to crack the codes to retrieve the Holy Grail and the two of you would be the only ones who could read it. He’d probably drag you along,” said Belle, grinning at him as she walked around and examined the items on the shelves.

“Ha, I would be only too happy to help keep the Holy Grail out of the wrong hands. We couldn’t very well have that. But I’m afraid I wouldn’t of much use in a showdown with the Nazis,” said Gold, laughing softly at the idea.

“Nonsense! You would be the one to save the day,” Belle insisted and she beamed at him and it meant more to him than she could know that she would say such things, even if they were talking about a hypothetical with a fictitious archeologist. 

He got out the milk and they sat and ate the brownies (verdict: delicious) and chatted for a little while before Gold remembered he had wanted to show her the rare books.

 “Here we go,” he said, as he put the box on the table. “But the piece de resistance is this – a copy of Dante’s _Divine Comedy_ from the 16 th century. What makes it so special though, is that you can see the censorship seal from the Spanish Inquisition and you can see what they redacted, but because so much time has passed, the cleric’s ink has faded, and you can read the lines they blacked out.”

 “That’s incredible,” Belle breathed. “What a book.”

Gold smiled as he watched her pour over the books but then he was tired of just watching and he moved to stand behind her. He put his hand on her hip to pull her closer and kissed her neck. She made a little sound in the back of her throat as she leaned back into him before turning so that they were face to face.

She ran her hand through his hair and stroked his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. They moved together to the sofa and Gold sat down, pulling her into his lap and she ended up straddling him. The kisses deepened and he ran his hands restlessly up her sides before slipping them under her shirt. He heard her breath catch – his hands were cold – and he smiled before she ground against him and his breath caught and it was her turn to smile.

Belle had just started to fiddle with his tie and he considered the idea of unhooking her bra and he was getting lost in the kisses when they were both unpleasantly jolted back to reality by the bell signaling someone had entered the shop. Belle quickly slid off his lap and they both made to rearrange their clothes and calm their breathing.

“Gold? Are you here?” It was Regina.

Gold cleared his throat and, hoping he sounded normal, called, “Give me a minute, Regina. I’ll be right there.”

He got to his feet and so did Belle. She straightened his tie and brushed back some of his hair.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I…” he said softly, biting his lip.

“No worries, I’ll hide out back here, you go see to the mayor. I’ll be waiting for you to come back,” murmured Belle, grinning mischievously at him. 

He smiled at her, so incredibly grateful that she was somehow in his life, and kissed her quickly and then went to see what Regina wanted.

Belle had intended to take the time to explore the back room, but she sank back into the sofa and it was very comfortable and she was reluctant to get up again. Instead she curled up and thought about the potential adventures the room held and about Gold and how she was sorry they had been interrupted because she hadn’t only missed talking to him…

She woke to Gold sitting on the edge of the sofa gently stroking her side.

“Hey,” he said gently. “It looks like you fell asleep, which isn’t a bad thing because the business with the mayor took much longer than I thought.” 

Belle sat up and yawned. “Mmm, I guess I did. Did you have a productive discussion with Regina?”

“I suppose. Storybrooke has some darker corners and sometimes politics requires a bit of finagling and planning.”

“And the planning bit is where you come in, I imagine,” said Belle, smiling at him. “I guess I should probably head home though," she added apologetically, stifling another yawn. "I'm sorry...work tomorrow."

“Of course,” he said graciously. “I’ll see you on Wednesday. I’m already hungry. Should I bring anything?” He was sorry to see her leave but at least he would see her soon.

"Maybe something to drink, if you'd like."

"I can do that. If you let me know the dishes, I can make sure the wine pairs well."

"I can do that." And they sat, smiling at each-other for a minute, before Belle reluctantly stood up.

Gold walked her across the street to the library, where they both paused, both hesitant to part ways. They stood for a moment, together, in a pool of light from one of the streetlights.

“Belle…I’m…” Gold began and then he kissed her – a hard kiss of love and longing – and murmured, “I’m sorry we were disturbed.”

It took Belle a second to find her voice and she murmured back, “As am I. Have a good night.” _Or you could come up right now…_

“Until Wednesday.” And he stroked her cheek one last time and forced himself to turn and go back to the shop.

 *** 

Gold and Belle had been solely focused on each-other and they hadn't notice that they were being watched.

 


	15. That's Enough of That

 

Tuesday couldn’t pass quickly enough for Belle or Gold, although Belle busied herself in the kitchen Tuesday evening. Several sources had said that the dishes were better if cooked the day before so the flavors were able to mingle, and that way she wouldn’t be in a rush Wednesday. She was excited for the excuse to text Gold to tell him what dishes she was preparing (chicken tika masala and saag paneer) and he was more than pleased to respond that it all sounded delicious and he would be sure to bring a good bottle of wine.

Wednesday found both of them excited, but also a touch anxious, and both lingered in front of the mirror in the morning longer than they would care to admit. Both were also grateful that they had social engagements for lunch, to break up the day. 

A little before twelve Gold headed to Granny’s Diner. He and Regina had a tradition of meeting monthly somewhere in town to discuss town matters and to “inspire fear in the townspeople.” Or at least that’s what they joked the purpose of their joint appearance was, because they both knew of their reputations in Storybrooke. Both were generally given a wide berth when they were on their own, and all the more so when they were together, and they found the whole thing rather amusing.

Even though it was a friendly meeting, Gold was in the habit of always arriving early so that he could be settled and sitting when the other person came in, and that day was no exception. He chose a booth and ordered coffee and had pulled out papers to review when Ruby brought over a slice of pie.

 “Miss Lucas, I did not order this,” he said coolly, frowning her.

“It’s on the house,” she said, and gave him a mischievous smile before turning and leaving before he could come up with a smart reply.

Gold blinked and looked at the pie in front of him. No one smiled at him. The Lucas girl was a friend of Belle’s… _oh._ He hoped he wasn’t flushing as he put two and two together.

At twelve he looked up as the door opened and was surprised to see Belle enter. She looked around and when saw him she changed course to make her way to where he was sitting. Gold felt his heart beat faster as she approached and he couldn’t help wondering if she didn’t mind being seen with him.

“Hello,” she said, smiling at him as he got to his feet. “How are you? I’m getting lunch with Ruby and some friends. We have a weekly tradition of sorts.”

“Hi,” he said, returning her smile. “That sounds nice. I’m having lunch with the Mayor. I suppose you could say we have a tradition of sorts as well.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said, giving him an extra big smile. “Have a good lunch, but don’t eat too much. See you later.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, and he sat back down as she headed to the back of the diner where her friends were waiting.

Regina arrived fashionably late, as always. She found Gold studying the piece of pie in front of him with a bemused expression, which had resulted from him trying not to smile.

“Gold,” she said, sliding into the booth across from him, curiosity in her voice.

“Madam Mayor,” he returned, nodding his head and trying to pull his thoughts away from Belle.

 “Pie for lunch?” Regina raised an eyebrow.

“No. I was just getting hungry waiting for you. I’m much obliged to you for finally showing up,” he drawled, his voice taking on a sarcastic edge.

When Belle had finished lunching with her friends, she got up to leave and he couldn’t help watching her walk towards the door. She glanced at him and smiled and he didn’t stop himself from smiling back.

When he turned back to Regina, she was smirking slightly.

“I should have known there was more to it when you asked about her.”

“That’s enough out of you.” He tried to inject venom into his growl, but the oh so recent memory of Belle smiling at him made that difficult.

But Regina was not one to be daunted so easily, and she had always enjoyed teasing him. “It looks like Beauty has found her Beast.”

“Let it go, Regina. My business is my own.”

“Indeed it is,” she conceded. “Except when it is Storybrooke business, in which case we discuss it in Granny’s Diner and suitably spook all the townsfolk.” And they resumed their previous conversation, Gold grateful Regina didn’t push the matter.

***

Belle left Gold and made her way to a table in the back where Ruby and Mary Margaret were waiting. She didn’t try to keep the smile off her face.  After dutifully answering some of her friends’ questions, she was able to steer the conversation away from herself and Gold, and the three friends had a lovely lunch.

Afterwards, as she made her way out, she caught Gold’s eye and smiled and he smiled back. As she pushed open the door to the diner and turned to head back to the library, she was so happy – she had wonderful friends, Gold was coming over that evening and they wouldn’t be interrupted, there weren’t that many more hours before she could leave the library and get ready for him to come over…

“Belle.”

The familiar voice caused her to freeze and only with great reluctance did she turn around.

“Dad.”

The two regarded each other. They were not on the best of terms, and Belle wondered what he wanted, as it seemed he had been waiting for her to come out and they hadn’t just happened to bump into each other.

She crossed her arms and finally, in an effort to be civil and so they wouldn’t be standing there all day, asked, “How are you doing?”

Mo had a funny look on his face. “Not as good as I could be.”

“Oh?” Belle just wanted the conversation to be over. She didn’t particularly want to stand in the cold and listen to Mo complain and she hoped he wasn’t going to ask for money.

“Yes. You see, I heard something rather disturbing the other day, and I was hoping you could confirm it’s not true.”

Only with great effort did she resist rolling her eyes. Mo had a flair for being overly dramatic.

“Oh? Do enlighten me.” She crossed her arms and surveyed her father.

 “I heard you are involved with Gold.”

It took her a moment to formulate a response. That had not been what she was expecting and she hoped she wasn’t blushing. That wouldn’t be conducive to the “I don’t care what you think I do what I want” attitude she wanted to portray.

“Since when have you cared who I’m involved with? Since when have you cared about anything to do with me unless it had to do with me helping you make rental payments?” she snapped, suddenly angry. How dare her father intrude on what would have been the perfect day. He had a way of ruining things.

Mo just laughed. “Don’t say that. Of course I care. Especially if that son of a bitch is taking advantage of my daughter!”

His voice was loud, almost shouting, and Belle desperately hoped that he couldn’t be overheard by the people in the diner.

“I don’t know what you think you’re talking about. I can assure you no one is taking advantage of me, and you’re choosing a funny time to become protective.” Belle’s anger was fueled by all the years of listening to her father talk about Gaston’s merits.

Mo narrowed his eyes. “Come on now Belle. Are you in some sort of financial trouble? What did that bastard rope you into?”

Belle almost turned and walked away at the insinuation, but she was too angry at the snub not only at her own honor but at Gold’s.

“How dare you imply what I think you’re implying,“ she snapped, her eyes bright with anger, almost forgetting that they were in the middle of town. “I can’t believe you would make that accusation.”

“I only know what I was told!” Mo retorted. His hatred of Gold was such that he couldn’t imagine things any other way. “I don’t know why else you would let him touch you.”

“Good god, this is ridiculous! My decisions are my own. If I’m with Gold it’s because I chose to be.”

Mo looked as if someone had slapped him. “My little girl-“

“Enough.” Belle’s voice was brittle. “I’m not your little girl and I haven’t been for a long time. You never cared, unless it was to try to guilt me into lending you money, so stop pretending to now.”

Mo’s face hardened. “Little whore. How much is he paying you? What type of agreement do you have?” He was yelling now, and Belle turned to walk away, leaving him shouting in the middle of the street.

She was shaking with embarrassment and shame and anger and all she wanted was to get back to her apartment and never leave. Gold had undoubtedly heard all of it, indeed probably all of Storybrooke had, and if they hadn’t they would soon, and she didn’t want to have to face anyone.

Mo continued to shout after her. “How can you do this to me? You little-“

“That’s quite enough out of you. Why don’t you pick on someone else for a change?” snarled an all too familiar voice behind him, and with trepidation Mo turned to see Gold standing behind him, fury in every line of his face.

The other patrons of Granny’s had come to stand outside too, and were watching with a sort of fascinated horror as the two faced off. Based on the emotions and men involved, it seemed unlikely it could end well, and Ruby called the police station before texting Belle. Mo was bigger than Gold, but Gold was Gold. He wasn’t someone any sane person crossed, and Mo looked decidedly nervous at being the object of his anger.

“Well, speak of the devil!” said Mo, trying to sound scornful but clearly nervous.

“I think you owe your daughter an apology. Granted, you owe her much more than that, but maybe that’s somewhere to start.” Gold’s voice was taunt with anger.

Maybe Mo realized there was no way it could end well for him so he decided to go down swinging.

“Don’t you tell me how to handle my daughter, Gold! Just because you’re paying her to sleep with you doesn’t give you a say!”

Gold’s jaw clenched but he didn’t have to raise his voice be intimidating. “You’re an insufferable, despicable man Mo French, to talk about your daughter that way.”

“I’ll talk to her any way I like! You stay away from her!”

“Anything she does is her choice. You could at least respect her enough to recognize that.” Gold scanned the crowd, and noting the presence of Sherriff Swan and her deputy, began to formulate a plan.

“How can you talk about respect, you son of a bitch! You keep your hands off her!” Mo was getting steadily angrier while Gold seemed to admirably be keeping his composure.

“I’ll put my hands wherever she wants!” Gold said derisively. The onlookers shifted – was he deliberately provoking the other man?

“You shut your filthy mouth!” Mo stepped close to Gold, close to losing control.

Gold smirked. “That’s not what she said last night.”

“Why you-“ And Mo hit him, a heavy blow across the side of his face.

Gold staggered and when he straightened, the left side of his face was numb but the Sherriff was putting Mo in handcuffs. He smiled thinly as he watched them put Mo in the squad car.

“If that was your goal, I’m not sure if I should say ‘well done’ or ask you what you were thinking. But you should sit down and put something on that,” Regina said softly next to him, a light hand on his arm. He hadn’t realized she had come to stand by his side, and he nodded and let her walk with him back in the diner.

Ruby quickly hurried over with ice and offered the diner’s first aid kit.

“It’s not a big deal.” Gold tried to brush off the medical attention, holding his handkerchief to his face. “Really.”

“At least stay still until it stops bleeding,” said Regina and Gold reluctantly acquiesced. She pursed her lips and shook her head at him, but then said quietly, “That was admirable, what you did. You care about this girl quite a bit, don’t you?”

Gold was saved from answering by the entrance of the deputy sheriff, Robin Forrester, into the diner.

“Ah, Madame Mayor, Mr. Gold. I’m glad I caught you. Mr. Gold, how are you doing? That was heavy blow.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Gold shortly. “It’s almost stopped bleeding.”

“I wanted to let you know that we have French in custody and if you would like to press charges I can take you over to the station to do so.”

“Of course he’ll press charges,” snapped Regina, as if not doing so was absurd.

“How long do I have to decide? Gold asked, and both Regina and Robin looked at him with surprise.

“You have the next 24 hours,” the deputy sheriff said.

“Very well. I will be sure to let you know within the time period.” Gold nodded and made to get up.

“Mr. Gold, one more thing,” said Robin. “You should know that if you do press charges, it’s possible we can use Mo French to go after Gerard Rose, as it’s possible one thing might lead to another.”

Regina looked at Robin suddenly. The problem of Rose was something Gold and Regina had discussed with the police, but even though they agreed he had to go, the man was cautious and there was never a trail that led back to him, and so getting rid of him legally had proved difficult. “How would that work?”

“If he is formally arrested, we can order a drug test, which we believe he is unlikely to pass. In that case, or if he refuses to take it, it is likely we can get a warrant to search his home or the store, in which case there’s a good chance we’ll find incriminating evidence against Rose.”

 “Gold, this could be the opportunity to go after him,” said Regina, looking back at Gold.

Gold nodded. “I recognize that, and I will be sure to let you know. But the decision to press charges is not mine alone to make. If that is all…?” And he made to stand up.

“Are you sure you’re ok to drive?” asked Regina.

Gold assured them that he was and thanked them for their time and slowly drove back to his house.  His face was throbbing, but he just wanted to get home so that he could call and check in on Belle.

As he pulled into the driveway he saw that she was sitting on the front steps and she jumped to her feet as he stopped the car. She looked as if she had been crying, and his heart twisted.

As soon as he got out of the car, she said, “I’m so sorry, are you alright?"at the same time he asked, “Belle, are you ok?” With a few quick steps they closed the distance between them and he caught her up in a tight hug. 

They stood together for a long time, each taking comfort in the other, each reluctant to let the other go.

 


	16. Thank You

 

“Hey,” Gold murmured as they finally pulled apart. 

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry, for what he did and what he said and-“ The words came out in a rush, her hands on his chest as she searched his face, and he felt a tightness in his throat as he realized she was worried he would be angry or think differently of her.

“Belle. Belle. I’m ok, everything’s ok, don’t worry about me. You have nothing to apologize for. How are you doing?” And he reached to stroke her cheek, to push back some of her unruly hair.

Belle gave a weak smile at his concern but shook her head. “I’m fine, but I wasn’t the one who got punched.”

Gold shrugged and gave her a rueful smile. “I asked for it. The things he was saying… I was about to hit him myself.”

“Ruby texted me about what happened… thank you,” she said, very softly, and reached to touch his face and tentatively let her fingers drag along his jaw line.

“It’s nothing. Would you like to come in?” he asked as she shivered. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

They proceeded inside and Belle said she would make tea while Gold went upstairs to change his shirt.

He stood in his bathroom and unbuttoned the bloody shirt. Leaning against the counter, he put his head in his hands and realized he was shaking. What a day… He splashed some water on his face and straightened, wincing as he looked in the mirror.

French might not be the brightest bulb in the box, but the man could throw a punch. Gold smiled coldly at his reflection – if everything went according to plan, it would be he who would be having the last laugh. That fool barely thought out his next step, whereas Gold would plan out his actions five moves in advance. But his smile faded as he remembered that in order for things to proceed, he had to talk to Belle, a conversation that could be upsetting and wasn’t guaranteed to have the desired result. He grabbed a clean shirt from his closet and, after a moment of hesitation, decided to forgo a tie. Taking a deep breath, he headed back downstairs.

Belle had just brought the two mugs of tea into the living room, and he joined her there on the sofa. They sat close together, but Gold looked into his mug, not at her, not sure how to bring up what he had to ask.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” she said quietly, breaking the silence but not looking at him either. “But thank you. It…it means a lot what you did. Does it hurt a lot?”

Gold looked at her quickly. “It’s nothing. I’ve been hit harder,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about how you would like for things to proceed. I have the option of pressing charges against your father, but it’s up to you, and I wouldn’t if you don’t want me to.”

Belle was quiet for a moment. The fact that Gold would ask her meant more than he could know, and, although she hesitated before answering, she was immediately sure what that answer would be. There was a hardness in her voice Gold didn’t recognize and a steeliness in her eyes as she looked at him and said, “You should do it. It’s about time he learned to think before acting.”

Gold nodded. “I’ll call the sheriff. And… and the deputy said there’s a chance they can go after Rose too, depending on what looking into your father turns up.”

“Good. All the more reason to do it.” They sat in silence for a moment.

When Gold glanced at her, she was regarding him with a funny look on her face, as if she was trying to puzzle something out.

“What?” he asked.

Belle shook her head and looked embarrassed and looked away. “I… no, it’s nothing. It- never mind.”

He cocked his head as he looked at her, curious now. “No really, what is it?”

She looked back at him and bit her lip. “I was just thinking that I don’t… I don’t want to be one of those people who asks this type of question, and I’m not asking you for an answer. But I… I was wondering why you stay. What you could see in me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper by the end, and she avoided his eyes.

Gold’s heart twisted painfully. He hoped it was the day’s events that had made her feel insecure, and that this wouldn’t be something she doubted when she was herself.

He took a deep breath. He would be brave and say it, because he cared enough that he wanted to tell her even if she didn’t feel the same way.

He reached to cup her face so she couldn’t look away and said, his voice soft, “Oh Belle. I want to be with you because… because I love you.”

Her breath caught. The intensity on his face – the love and passion written there –was almost dizzying.  “I love you too,” she said back, her voice equally soft.

His heart soared and he kissed her but pulled back before it led to anything more because he had more he wanted to say to her.

“I want to be with you because when I am with you I feel lighter and happier than I have in a long time. Before New Year’s our conversations were the highlight of my week. I love how we can talk for hours about anything. I love how we can talk about books. I love how we can laugh together. I love you.”

“That was wonderful. Thank you. Thank you for everything.” Belle bowed her head.

He put a finger under her chin to lift her face so he could look her in the eye.

“Nothing anyone else does – not your father, not Gaston, not anyone – will ever change that. You are a strong, brave, intelligent, beautiful woman, and you’re in a league of your own.”

She moved to hug him tightly, and they stayed together for a long moment. When they finally drew apart, she tentatively suggested if he was still interested that they could go to her apartment and maybe watch a movie and eat the Indian food. Gold said that sounded like a lovely way to spend the afternoon (they had both made the unspoken decision to take the afternoon off – Gold had already closed the shop before lunch and Belle had already confirmed that one of the other librarians could cover her shift).

Gold drove them over to the library. In the car Belle found the bottle of wine he had intended to bring as well as a box of chocolate. Upon arriving they decided to watch _Midnight in Paris_ and curled up on the sofa together and dipped into the chocolate. After dinner (Belle proved herself as adept at Indian food as at desserts) they found themselves back on the sofa, trading kisses, but quickly wanting more.

Finally as they pulled apart, both breathing heavily, Belle stood and held out her hand to him, the invitation clear.

She led him to her bedroom, flicking off the living room light as they left said room, something Gold was grateful for. As they entered her room, he leaned his cane against the wall near the door so that he could hold both of her hands, and took off his shoes and socks.

They stood in the middle of the room, silhouetted by the light from the streetlight outside, fingers intertwined.

Then Gold moved to kiss her and she stepped closer to him and put her arms around his neck. He put his hands on her waist to pull her even closer.  Surely this, to have her pressed against him, warm and willing, her mouth eagerly opening under his, anticipation mounting at what was to come, was what true happiness was.

He brought his hands up her back to unzip her dress and slowly slid it off. Moving his hands back up, he unhooked her bra and then brought his hands back up to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples with his thumbs and she trembled in his arms.

Belle tugged at his shirt and he let her pull it over his head. But then her hands moved to his undershirt, and he gently caught her wrists.

“Belle… I… I would prefer…” he stammered, unusually inarticulate, unsure what to say.

Belle smiled to herself, glad the darkness hid it. They both had their insecurities, but as he had offset hers, she hoped to do the same for him. She slid her hands up his chest – he shuddered as she ran her hands over his nipples – to put them around his neck and murmured in his ear, “I love you. I think you’re so handsome. You’re charming and witty and daring and dashing, sort of like the dark, brooding hero out of some English novel. I can see you riding across the moors or stalking through your castle in the Scottish highlands.”

He chuckled softly at that, grateful for her ability to say just the right thing. “I hope you would be there with me. Being by myself in a drafty castle would get rather lonesome.”

She smiled at that. “Of course I would be there. I couldn’t leave the running of Scotland to you, now could I?”

 “I was thinking more you could help keep my massive four poster bed warm,” he drawled teasingly, kissing and nipping at her neck.

Belle laughed softly. “My time could be split between the two. But at the end of the day, no matter what world we’re in, I love you and I want you and I want to feel you against me tonight, all of you.”

She had won him over, and he reluctantly let her pull the undershirt off. His hands moved down to her waist to pull at her tights and she wriggled out of them before moving her own hands to fumble with his belt buckle.   With belt and button and zipper undone, his pants pooled on the floor around his feet and he stepped out of them.

As they stood in just their underwear, their mouths met, a preview of the display of passion to come. Gold made a small sound in the back of his throat as she rubbed against him and he quickly moved to slide off her panties as she moved to do the same with his boxers.

They moved to the bed and sat and moved together to the middle. Gold made to move on top, but she nudged at his shoulder to push him onto his back.

“I think I owe you,” she whispered playfully into his ear. “For defending my honor today.”

“I like the sound of that,” he said hoarsely, his voice catching as she shifted on top of him. Having her take charge was intoxicating.

“My hero,” Belle murmured against his mouth. Gold lost himself for a moment in the fleeting touch of her mouth on his and then moaned softly as her hips bucked slightly against him. She lifted slightly, reaching for him between them, suddenly desperate for the sensation of him inside her once more. Gold moved faster, his fingers brushing against her as he eased himself in. One push from him as she lowered herself onto him and they were together again, caught and held in the moment. 

"Ohhhhh ...." was all Belle could say as she felt him fill her, hot and hard as he slid into her.

She propped himself up, her hands on his chest as she straddled him, wanting to prolong the moment somehow, to make it last.

“I love you,” she murmured and her heart sang when he responded, “And I love you too.”

She leaned down to kiss him again, shifting subtly as she did so and delighting in the glazed look that came over his face just before her mouth met his.

A slow shift, arching and writhing, both together as they began to move; he held her close to him, hands on her hips because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing the connection between them even for an instant.  She shifted forwards just enough to increase contact with him; he pushed upwards against her, then slid his thumb between them to give her the pressure she was blindly seeking.  She shuddered violently as he touched her; the sensation shot through him as she contracted hard with the shudder and he gasped.  No more control; all thought of restraint was gone as he shuddered in turn and began to push harder into her with short, sharp thrusts that caught his hand between them and took him fully into her. 

She arched backwards above him, her body taut with their shared arousal. The pressure of her climax was fired by his last hard push into her; then he was gripped and held as he came pulsing into her, delighting in her abandonment to the moment.

Belle let herself fall forwards onto Gold, careful not to move so much that he slipped from her; she wanted this moment of connection. She felt his hand in her hair and looked up; he cupped the back of her head and lifted his head to kiss her again. This was a slow, soft, meeting of mouths, drowsy with exhaustion and all the sweeter for it.

They slowly moved under the covers. Belle propped herself up on her elbow to look at him and he slowly ran his hand up and down her side.

"I still don't know your first name," she said sleepily.

"No, I suppose you don't. I don't much care for it, but I guess you can know." And he pulled her close and whispered in her ear and she smiled and snuggled closer to him and they fell asleep together.

  


	17. Bad Moon Rising

 

Gold was normally an early riser, and the next day was no exception. He awoke in the pre-dawn light and kept his eyes closed, savoring Belle’s warmth next to him and how wonderful the previous night had been. 

He wouldn’t have minded staying there forever, but nature called and reluctantly he slid out of bed to go to the bathroom. Upon returning, he found his clothes on the floor and put them on. As he buttoned up his shirt, he looked at Belle and thought about his next step. Leaving without waking her would not be the right thing to do. But the longer he stayed the harder it would be to leave.

If he was being honest with himself, he was a bit scared. He loved her so, but it had been less than a week since New Years and here he was, in her bedroom. He wasn’t convinced she could see in him all she said she did, and he was terrified he would ruin what they had. His life had changed completely since she had walked into it, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle loosing her. He recognized that his feelings were a bit crazy, considering they had only known each other a little more than a month, but somehow everything felt so right when they were together.

It was a connection he had never felt with anyone else, not even Milah.  Granted, there were things she didn’t know, things he didn’t want to tell her, but perhaps with time they would even have those conversations.

Shaking his head and finally coming up with a suitable compromise, he slipped out to pick up breakfast – fresh chocolate croissants - from the bakery on Main Street. The woman behind the counter gave him a knowing smile and he glared at her, but the glare lacked punch. As he left he thought how it would be unacceptable for the town to think he was going soft; he had a reputation to maintain after all.

Back at the apartment he put the croissants on the table and then went back into her bedroom, glad she hadn’t awoken while he was away. He knelt by the bed and stroked her back, hoping to wake her gently.

“Belle,” he murmured.

“Mmm. Hey.” She shifted sleepily. She was on her stomach and as she shifted slightly to look at him, he saw she had a tattoo, something he hadn’t realized before. A flock of birds in flight flew across her right shoulder blade. He reached to run a finger over it.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” he said softly.

“I suppose it never came up,” she said, smiling at him.

“Birds… a symbol of hope?” he asked.

She bit her lip at that, and her smile took on a tinge of sadness. “Maybe more of freedom. I… I always used to catch myself looking up at the sky and watching birds and be envious of how they could fly anywhere. I guess I still do that. I always wanted to travel he world, to leave Storybrooke. ”

Gold nodded and his heart twisted at the sadness in her voice. He wanted to say they could leave together and go anywhere, but he ended up simply saying, “You still could.”

She just shrugged and didn’t answer and he sensed there might be something deeper under her words, but he wasn’t going to push the matter. He suspected they both had their reasons for staying in Storybrooke, and perhaps with time those reasons would come to light. So he just said, “Well, for my own sake I’m glad you stuck around.”

She smiled at that and said softly, “Me too.” She shifted to sit up, keeping the sheet pulled up.

“I should get going, to get ready for the day. I got chocolate croissants for you for breakfast – they’re on the table,” he said.

Her smile lost its wistfulness at that and he felt he was the luckiest man in the world to be on the receiving end of her bright smile. “Thank you. I do love chocolate. But won’t you stay to eat?”

“I wish I could, but I should return to my house to get ready for the day.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a shower?” She raised an eyebrow at him, hoping to keep him around for a little longer. She would be sorry to see him leave.

“As tempting as that offer is, I fear if I did I would never leave,” he said mournfully, but with a hint of a smile. _And, while darkness might bring courage, daytime is another matter._

“I suppose you’re probably right.” she said.

He straightened but seemed reluctant to leave. Finally he kissed her forehead and said, “Have a good day.”

“You too.”

“I love you,” he said, because he did, so much, and as a way to stay a moment longer.

“And I love you.” And he left with the picture of her smile and her words in his heart.

Belle watched him go and thought perhaps it was for the best that she had time to herself to gather her thoughts. She was a little afraid of the intensity of her feelings for him and how waking up next to him every morning seemed like such an appealing idea and how there was a feeling of loss when he wasn’t there. She had always valued her independence, and the idea of finding “happiness with the perfect man” always seemed like something that only happened in fairy-tales. That wasn’t how real life worked, was it? And they had only known each-other for a month…

But somehow all that paled in comparison to how happy she was when they were together.

She shook her head and got out of bed to get ready for the day.

***

Later that afternoon Belle sat at the circulation desk in the library and toyed with the idea of texting Gold. She wanted to, but she didn’t want to seem too anxious. Finally she decided to do so anyways.

Belle. 2:55 pm. _The chocolate croissants were great. Thank you for that. :)_ _How’s your day going? It’s slow over here._

He responded almost immediately, leading her to believe there were a similar amount of customers in the pawnshop as there were persons in the library. Or that he had been hoping she would text. She wanted it to be the latter.

Gold. 2:59 pm. _Of course. Glad you enjoyed them. Only the best for you. :)_ _There’s not much going on over here either. A chess game with a worthy opponent would be a better use of the afternoon…_

Belle smiled, as much at his message as at his use of emoticons.

Belle. 3:03 pm. _That sounds nice. If only… I’m stuck over here. When do I get to see you again?_

Gold. 3:05. _Friday night, maybe? I think it’s my turn to cook._

Belle. 3:09. _You can cook? I’ll have to hold you to that. Unfortunately Friday doesn’t work – it’s Mary Margaret’s birthday. Maybe Saturday?_

Gold. 3:12. _It’s decided then. Saturday. And I can too cook. You’ll see. How does moussaka sound? It’s a specialty of mine._

Belle. 3: 16. _It sounds like we have a plan. I’m already looking forward to it. Maybe there's even a story that goes along with that?_

And so on Saturday Belle headed to Gold’s house. He had offered to pick her up, but she told him she didn’t mind the walk, and so she arrived at his door as it was getting dark, her cheeks red from the cold, but a big smile on her face and a pie in her hands.

He ushered her warmly inside and they passed a lovely evening. Gold proved himself to be quite the cook, and equally adept at pairing fine wines with good food.  They made their way through dinner and dessert and then ended up in the kitchen together as they finished clearing the table.

“It’s begun to snow,” Belle remarked softly, looking out the window.

“Hmm,” said Gold, coming to stand behind her and moving his hands to her waist. “It looks like you’ll have to stay the night,” he purred in her ear.

She turned and sat slightly on the counter such that he was standing between her legs. Running her hands through his hair before sliding her arms around his neck to pull him closer, she murmured, “I thought you’d never ask. 

And then her mouth found his and they were lost in the touch of the other, the insecurities of the past days the furthest thing from their minds as they depend the kiss. Finally Gold pulled back, breathing heavily, and offered her his hand, to lead her upstairs.

***

As Gold and Belle went to his bedroom, the snow continued to fall outside.

Down by the docks a man made his way through the bitter winter weather to one of the bars. The bar in question was called The Black Dog and it was one of the shabbier establishments in Storybrook. There was an air of general seediness in the area. The neighborhood was not enhanced by the cold weather and it was grey and dirty, not the best place to be caught after dark if one did not have specific business to attend to. That business, however, could include a wide range of pursuits of questionable legality.

The Black Dog was mostly frequented by those who worked at the docks and canneries. Inside it was shabby and the alcohol selection was cheap and of low quality, but quality was not the reason patrons chose it. Rather, it was chosen because no one was going to call the police if a fight broke out or because of the women in the alley behind it or because of the poker game going on the back room.

The man pushed open the door, provoking glares from those seated nearest as a gust of cold air followed him in. But once they saw who it was, they quickly looked away. He hung up his coat and pushed back his hair, now wet with snow, out of his face. He was tall and well muscled, someone who spent time in the gym and was not to be trifled with. His dark eyes hardened as he surveyed the room and saw that the table in the back corner of the room was occupied. His face was one that could have been handsome, with high cheekbones and finely chiseled features, if not for the air of callousness that hovered around his eyes and the sneer that almost never left his mouth.

Gaston Rose had returned. 

While his father had gotten rich from bending the laws with real estate and other endeavors in the town, Gaston, with his father’s name behind him, had involved himself in less savory business avenues. The Black Dog, where he had headed as his first stop upon arriving in Storybrooke was where he had held court and collected his cut of the money and addressed the problems that arose (although problem solving tended to take place in the back alley and tended not to be diplomatic). He had a reputation for cruelty and was not someone that the denizens of Storybrooke’s sleazier underbelly would cross. 

As Gaston made his way to the back table the noise level dropped as people noticed who he was, but the man he had his eye on seemed to be exception and continued to loudly tell his story to the other persons at the table.

“Lefou, keeping my seat warm, are you?” Gaston’s voice was as cold as the weather outside and the other man immediately jumped to his feet.

“Of course. I was only waiting for your return. It’s good to see you again, Gaston.”

Gaston glared at the other persons around the table and they quickly found seats elsewhere. He took his seat in the back corner, the seat that offered a view of the entire establishment, and Lefou sat across from him. A pint of beer appeared at his elbow. Gaston never needed to order and never had to pay at The Black Dog.

 “So,” said Gaston, regarding the other man, his voice hard. “Do fill me in.”

Lefou swallowed. He didn’t want to be the one to tell Gaston of the events of the past few days, but he didn’t have many choices. He had been the one to contact Gaston, because he knew things wouldn’t go well for him if things had gotten worse and Gaston heard about it from someone else. Reluctantly he recounted what had taken place in front of Granny’s Diner and the aftermath, and as he had expected, Gaston didn’t take the story well.

“What the fuck,” he snarled, hitting the table hard. “That bloody idiot French. If the police find a lead through him…”

“It doesn’t seem like they will,” Lefou said quickly. “Your father is much better at this than French. From my contacts I’ve gathered the police won’t be able to pin anything on him. They came close enough that I thought I should call you though.

“You were right to do that.” Gaston frowned and lapsed into silence, thinking about what to do next. 

Gold would have to be dealt with. The man had been a thorn in his father’s side for long enough, and now he had gone too far. While that was more his father’s battle, Gaston was more than willing to fight it. Gold would strut around town as if he owned it; well, Gaston teach him who not to cause problems for. But while it was all well and good to think about knocking Gold down a peg or two, doing it was an entirely different matter, one that would require careful thought.

And then there Belle, who complicated things. He had always been somewhat entranced by the woman. She was beautiful and witty and the only women he had pursued who dared to turn him down. He had been content to let her be, but her getting involved with Gold was unacceptable, and he wanted her back.

“Well, Lefou,” said Gaston after a moment’s pause. “We have some planning to do.”

 


	18. Not a Time for Words

 

Tuesday found Belle in a particularly happy mood because Gold was going to stop by the library at closing time. She was on her own for the evening shift and when she caught herself humming as she re-shelved books, she smiled and shook her head. The humming stopped but the big smile remained on her face. As the library door swung open close to closing time, she looked up from the reception desk, expecting to see Gold, but the smile froze on her face.

It wasn’t Gold who strode in, but Gaston, and Belle’s stomach lurched. She had hoped he was gone for good, and was scared to think about what his return meant for her or her relationship with Gold, but at that moment she was more concerned about what might happen if Gold arrived while Gaston was still there.

Gaston walked over to her and Belle unconsciously stood up straighter, bracing herself for the confrontation, glad the desk was between them.

“Dear Belle,” drawled Gaston, putting his elbows on the desk and leaning towards her.

“Gaston,” she said civilly, thinking that being courteous would be the quickest way to get rid of him. “I had heard you left Storybrooke.”

“How could I stay away from you?” he said, and she had to fight not to let her feelings show.

“Hmm.” She made a noncommittal noise that could have passed for disgust if she hadn’t been trying very hard to be polite.

“Won’t you have dinner with me tonight? I would like to talk about repairing our relationship. I know I haven’t exactly been a gentleman in the past, but I have been doing some deep thinking, and I want to make amends. I want you in my life.” He cocked his head as he looked at her, smiling what he thought to be a seductive smile, but it was much too wolfish. His "I want you in my life" sounded more a one-sided decision than a romantic overture.

She managed to muster up a smile in return, but on the inside she was seething at his audacity to think that she would want anything to do with him. “Unfortunately tonight doesn’t work for me. I have library paperwork to do.”

“But it’s seven, and doesn’t the library close at seven? I guess this is typical Belle, isn’t it? You were always the one to stay in studying.  Come on, live a little,” he urged, the familiar smirk on his face.

Belle shrugged and tried to look apologetic. “I guess I’ll be putting in some overtime. This paperwork really has to get done. I was actually just about to close up when you came in.” She grabbed her bag and a stack of papers, hoping to steer him out of the library. 

There were two sets of doors that led to the library, the outside one opening into a foyer that to one side led to the stairs that went to Belle’s apartment and the inner pair of doors opening into the library.

They paused in the foyer, Gaston standing too close.

“Well, good night then,” said Belle, but he didn’t move. 

“Oh Belle, staying in with work,” said Gaston, shaking his head at her and looking at her in such a way she wanted nothing more than to slap him. “I want a rain check for dinner. I know just the place.”

“Sounds good,” she said, and turned and walked up the stairs, forcing herself not to run and hoping he wouldn’t follow.

 Belle locked the door after she entered and leaned against it, heart beating quickly. She hadn’t expected to see him; she had, somewhat foolishly in hindsight, thought him gone for good, but in hoping for such she had forgotten how much she knew about him, how tied he was to the town. 

Her overarching emotion though was anger, and the strength of it surprised her. There was anger and hatred at Gaston for his insolence and arrogance, and for coming back just when everything was as going so well with Gold. If Gaston ruined that… There was anger and disgust at herself for always being polite and not telling him get lost long ago. And there was anger at the world, for telling women they should be scared and walk on the side of the street with streetlights rather than telling men it was unacceptable to hit women. 

The anger was new. Normally he stirred up feelings of disgust and fear, but maybe with Gold in her life and (metaphorically and not so metaphorically) by her side things were different this time around.

And so when the knock came, she grabbed the hard-bound book on her kitchen table and strode to the door, ready for a fight and wanting to confront Gaston. 

Belle wrenched open the door, ready to hit whoever it was on the other side, but then she saw it was Gold, not Gaston. She stepped back, her heart beating quickly again, but for different reasons. He stayed in the doorway, and they regarded each other.

***

Gold smiled to himself as he locked up the pawnshop. He was going to head to the library to pick up Belle, then they would go to his house for dinner and to start to watch the Star Wars movies. Somehow he had never seen them, but when Belle found that out she said they had to watch them all before the new movie came out. She assured him they were quite good, or at least the three original ones were.

Gold pulled his coat tighter as he crossed the street to the library. It was bitterly cold, but he supposed that was just January in Maine. 

He put out his hand to push open the door when someone on the inside opened them to come out.  Gold stepped aside to let the man exit and then both men froze on the sidewalk as they recognized the other.

“Gold,” Gaston sneered, crossing his arms as he surveyed Gold. Because he was a head taller than Gold, and larger and younger, he mistakenly assumed the other man was only dangerous when he was behind a desk and could call in his connections.

 “Gaston,” Gold growled, anger surging through him. What was Rose junior doing in Storybrook? He had given him an out, a path out of Belle’s life, but the man had returned.

“I’m back in town, you know,” the younger man drawled. “Are you going to see Belle?”

 “What’s it to you?” spat Gold, fighting to keep his emotions under control.

Gaston smirked. “I wouldn't bother, you know. She as good as agreed to go out with me and from that we’ll rekindle what once was.”

Only years of practice of not expressing emotion in trying situations kept him from hitting Gaston right then. “I think that’s wishful thinking on your part. She wants nothing to do with you.”

“I think you need to back off. She’s mine.” Gaston’s eyes had narrowed. His smirk flickered and a menacing note had crept into his voice.

Gold’s jaw clenched. “Belle doesn’t belong to anyone. She gets to chose her own path. If you lay a hand on her-“

“Do you take me for a perfect idiot? I wouldn’t-” Gaston drawled.

“No one’s perfect. Stay away from her.” Gold’s voice was cold and deadly. He wanted nothing more than to wipe the sneer of Gaston’s face.

“Brave words. I’d like to see you try to keep me away, old man.” Any trace of amusement was gone from Gaston’s face, leaving a very ugly expression. His hands had curled into fists.

Gaston looked like he was ready to settle things right then and there, and despite the unseemliness of public brawling, Gold was more than ready to have it out with the other man. Even though Gaston was younger and bigger, he was overconfident and Gold was sure of his own boxing abilities and angry enough that all he wanted was to hurt Gaston enough that he stayed away from Belle, no matter how much he was hurt in return.

The two men regarded each other, both ready for a fight. Gaston swung first, a heavy blow at Gold’s head. Gold moved quickly but not quickly enough, and the blow hit his shoulder and sent him staggering. But before Gaston could try again, Gold struck back.

His fist hit the side of Gaston’s face, sending the other man reeling, and then with his cane he caught him a heavy blow on the side. Gold hit him again before he was able to straighten up. Gaston ducked away before he could land a third blow, and turned and half-ran away, bent over and clutching his side.

As Gold watched the other man slink away, he was oblivious to the pain and cold and only felt anger. Round one might have gone to him, but Gaston would be back.

***

Belle saw right away that Gold had run into Gaston as he stood in the doorway. His suit was rumpled, his hair disheveled, his hand slightly bloody. His eyes were dark and his face was hard with anger, but because she knew he would never hurt her, because she loved him and trusted him, there was something thrilling to see the fire in his eyes on her behalf, and the spark of possessiveness.

Gold stood in the doorway, breathing hard, his eyes searching hers. She looked shaken, but there was defiance on her face too, and color high on her cheeks. A small part of his brain said they needed to talk about what to do next, but overwhelming that was his desire to feel her against him again, to crush his mouth against hers. He wanted her and the thrill of the fight was still humming in his blood and the pride and heat in her eyes made his longing for her almost painful.

“I think Tolstoy would be more effective than Atwood,” Gold said finally, noting the book in her hands, but there was a rawness to his voice.

“He’s back,” Belle said quietly, her eyes not leaving Gold’s face.

“He came to see you,” Gold said raggedly. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” she said simply.

She made a small motion towards him and then he swiftly closed the distance between them to hold her tightly. The kisses were hot and hard, a manifestation of the raw emotions, and they moved together towards her bedroom. Gaston’s appearance had awoken the insecurities deep within both of them – Belle’s fear that she wasn’t good enough for Gold and that he would walk away from her, and Gold’s fear that he would lose her, that something would happen to her because of him.

The small noise she made as he pushed her against the bedroom doorframe cut through to Gold and with a great deal of will power he pulled back, not wanting to hurt her.

Belle saw the question in his eyes before he could ask, and said fiercely, although her voice was barley above a whisper, “No. None of that. No apologies. No words right now. I want you. I want this.”

And although they both thought glancingly that it might be better to talk, because the pain and fire of one found common cause with the pain and fire of the other, other emotions overrode the more rational thoughts. For Gold’s part there was the desire to take her, to show her and the world that she was his and he was hers. Tonight was not the night for being gentlemanly. And for her part, Belle wanted the veneer of civility to drop. She she wanted to feel the passion she saw in his eyes, in the gaze that was almost not human, and for him to reassure her that it was she he wanted, but not through words.

And so they came together again and moved towards her bed, still half dressed but not wanting to take the time to undress completely. There was a roughness to their lovemaking that had previously been absent, but that night each wanted and reveled in it. There was a rougher side to their love, a darker side to the passion that built up between them, as everyone has the darker sides to their nature. For the most part it stayed dormant, but not that night. Both would bear marks from it in the following days – she would have marks from his teeth on he neck and he would feel the sting in the shower from her nails on his back - and would take pride in the marks.

Afterwards they lay together, thoroughly sated, as their breathing returned to normal. His arms were around her and her head was on his chest and neither had the desire to separate. Anger had been assuaged and fear had been mitigated and now that the fiery passion had cooled both looked to the embrace of the other for comfort and love.

Eventually Gold got up and went to stand by the window, straightening his pants but leaving his shirt unbuttoned. The only light was from the streetlights outside, but Belle could see there was a terse look on his face. She got up and, fixing her clothes slightly as well, went to stand next to him and gently ran her fingers up and down his back.

He slowly relaxed at her touch, but tensed as her fingers reached his shoulder, and she said softly, “Are you alright?”

“I wasn’t the only one to land a punch, but he’ll look the worse for it tomorrow. How are you?” Gold asked softly, and Belle was heartened to hear that he sounded normal, that the anger had left his voice and the dry sarcasm she loved so well was almost back.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, a kiss of love and tenderness, and then slipped her arms around his neck and held him tightly.

“With you next to me I’ll always be fine,” she whispered in his ear.

“And I’ll always be there for you,” he murmured, his arms around her waist, and it was a moment before she could find her voice.

“I guess we should talk about what happens now,” she said, pulling back from the embrace.

He cocked his head at her, unsure of what she meant.

“We need a plan to get rid of Gaston for good. Do you want some hot chocolate? We might as well start thinking now.”

 


	19. Planning

 

They went together into the living room. 

“Sit,” said Belle, waving toward the sofa. “I’ll make the hot chocolate. And maybe sandwiches too.”

Gold sank into the sofa and she went on into the kitchen. She wanted a minute to collect her thoughts. The inkling of a plan had appeared when she first saw Gaston, and now she wanted to think it through and try to come up with a way to convince Gold to go through with it. He wasn’t going to like it at all, but she couldn’t think of anything else.

As the milk heated and she got out sandwich ingredients, she glanced over to where Gold sat. He was leaning forward, forearms resting on his thighs, looking ahead but unseeing. His shirt was unbuttoned – she could see his black undershirt – and his hair was still disheveled. Concern and pain were etched on his face, and he looked strangely vulnerable. Her throat tightened as she turned back to the stove, because she knew he wouldn’t let his feelings show like that if he knew she could see him.

She hated that he was getting hurt through being involved with her, both figuratively and literally. His face still bore a mark from the incident with her father. And for her to suggest what she was thinking… he would be would be within his rights to get up and leave and not come back. But because she trusted that he wouldn't, she would tell him her idea.

Once the milk was warm Belle added the cocoa and sugar, and then, after a moment’s thought, added a splash of peppermint schnapps, figuring it couldn’t hurt.

She carried the cocoa into the living room and put the mugs on the table, returned for the sandwiches, then settled herself on the sofa next to Gold, sitting close to him and putting a hand on his leg. She had been right in her speculations – as soon as she moved through the doorway he straightened up and tried to assume a neutral expression.

“So,” he began, a forced calmness in his voice. “Gaston is leaving Storybrooke, one way or another.”

“Yes,” Belle said. “I think I might have a way to get rid of him.” She took a deep breath. “He oversees a number of illegal activities by the wharves – gambling and drugs and such. I think if I pretend to go out with him I can get close enough that I-“

“Absolutely not,” Gold said harshly, turning sharply to look at her. “Out of the question. I will find a way-“

“No,” she said softly. “Nothing that could even possibly be traced back to you. He’s done enough, he won’t ruin this.” She reached to stroke his cheek but he pulled away from her touch and stood up, hardness in his face, his jaw clenched.

He paced to the other end of the room and bit back the angry retort that sprang to his lips. No. He would master the irrational feelings of jealousy and possessiveness that had seized his heart. He knew she hated and feared Gaston, and he hated the idea of her being anywhere near to the other man after what he had done to her. How he wished he had gotten rid of Gaston in a more permanent fashion.

“I don’t like the idea of you anywhere near him,” Gold growled as he turned to walk back to the sofa, his voice rough. Anger was evident in his face, not at her but at Gaston and the situation they found themselves in. 

“Sit.” Belle patted the space next her and he sat, half-turned to face her. She smoothed her hands over his chest, fiddling with his shirt collar, and they sat so their foreheads were almost touching.

“Just hear me out. I know it would be asking so much of you, but I don’t know of any other way that would put him away legally. I think, through pretending to go out with him, I could find enough incriminating evidence to put him away for good.”

“It’s not safe,” Gold retorted. “Wouldn’t he suspect something? And even if he doesn’t, he’s hurt you before. He and the people he works with, the ones you’d also be bringing down, are dangerous. They won’t take being crossed lightly.”

“Maybe they won’t need to know it’s me. And Gaston is arrogant enough to think that I would return because I actually feel something for him. He thinks the world revolves around him, and, at least in the circles he runs in, it does. And besides, over-estimating women has never been his strong suit. He wouldn’t expect anything – he thinks people are too scared to cross him. ”

There was a hardness in Belle’s voice as she spoke that made Gold consider for the first time that maybe this could work. As much as he hated the thought of her spending time with Gaston, if she could be strong enough to go through with such a plan, surely he could be strong enough to master his own insecurities and do everything within his power to make sure she was as safe as possible.

“But what if he wants to…” Gold trailed off, unsure how to word his question or if he even wanted to.

“What if he wants to be intimate?” she finished the question he couldn’t bring himself to ask. “I can handle him, at least for a little while. We will “take things slow,” and then that time of the month can happen inopportunely. It won’t work forever, but I would break character before I let it get that far.” There was a steely brightness in her eyes, and Gold grudgingly admired her determination.

He looked away and sighed. “I don’t like it at all,” he said finally as he turned to look back at her. "Surely there's another way."  _I won’t forbid it though, because that’s not how what we have works, but how I want to._

“I don’t know what else to do,” she said quietly. “God knows I don’t want to do this, but I can’t think of anything else that might work. I don't want you to be involved, because they'd love nothing more than to come after you too. I just want him gone. And this would give me a chance to get back at him. Every minute I would have to spend with him would be manageable because it would be one minute closer to getting rid of him, with the added bonus that he will never see it coming.” His heart tightened as he noted the fear in her eyes, and how she bravely tried, and almost succeeded, in hiding it, and how, despite everything, she wanted to protect him. 

Gold sighed heavily. “I hate that I don’t know another way. If we’re really going to go through with this, let me talk discreetly to the Sheriff. If we can bring her in, maybe they can give you wire-tapping equipment and you could bug a meeting or something and then you wouldn’t have to steal documents or anything like that. Maybe that would further protect you, because at the arrests or at a trial they could just say a confidential informant planted the bug or wore a wire.”

Belle bit her lip. “I guess so, if you think it’s a good idea.”

He nodded. “I trust Sheriff Swan. I can reach out to them so there’s no connection between you and the police.”

She nestled closer to him and he put his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice muffled. “Twice now you’ve taken on my fight and now this... it’s more than I could ever have asked of you.”

“You never have to ask it of me. I’m here, whether you ask or not,” he murmured to the top of her head.

She pulled away slightly. “And knowing you’ll be there is why I think I can go through with it. You’re probably wondering why I would ever have become involved with someone like him.”

“Belle, no, I-“ But before he could find the right words to assure her he didn’t care, she continued.

“He wasn’t always like this, you know. Always a bully, but not always so cruel. Not that I’m defending him. If anything I’m trying defend my former self. I never really liked him though, but then I went to college and he didn’t and when I came back he had changed. Or maybe he had just grown into who he really is. With his father’s name and money he was able to make a reputation for himself down by the docks, in the gray areas.

I ended the relationship before I went to college. Ruby was a huge support for me in those days – she still is – and she helped me to end it after she found out what was going on. After she saw the bruises. But he never seemed to take that seriously, as you saw after Christmas.”

Gold struggled to control his temper but he stayed silent to let her speak. She needed someone to listen, not someone to reiterate how awful Gaston was. 

“I had wanted to leave for college and leave Storybrooke for good, and so I thought I’d be rid of him. But then I found myself coming back to help my father keep the flower shop alive.

We moved to Storybrooke because of my mother’s health – the doctors said being away from the big city would be good for her. She was the one who loved the flowers; the store was her pride and joy. Maybe the move slowed the illness, but we still lost her. Since her death I think my father feels he has an obligation to keep the store going, even as he’s slowly been spiraling downwards.

He convinced me to come back after college to help keep the shop going. He always says it’s what my mother would have wanted. I feel an obligation to her not only to keep Game of Thorns open, but also to look after my father because he was never the same after her death. I help him make rent, which means I never have much left over. I so wanted to leave and travel, but I was stuck,” she finished softly, not looking at him.

“I’m sorry,” she continued. “For involving you in all of this, in this mess-“

 “You’ve never had anything to apologize for.” Gold took both her hands in his, pushing down his anger at Mo French. “Life has dealt you a rough hand, but your story also shows your strength and goodness and beauty. It’s the story of the woman I love, so so much, and whom I’ll always be there for.”

She looked at him and smiled tremulously. “And I love you. Everything you’ve said and done for me means so much, so much more than I could ever put into words.”

Gold smiled warmly back at her, glad to see a smile on her face again. “And as for staying in Storybrooke…that’s nothing to be ashamed of. You came back for admirable reasons. I think we both have our reasons and the shadows of our past tying us here, but my story is one for another time. But when this has blown over, we could leave Storybrooke together. Where would you want to go?”

He asked because while he would go anywhere with her, he also wanted to change the subject. It wouldn’t do for her to start asking about his past and why he was tied to the town. She had told him her story, but he was not ready to do the same. And besides, the timing was far from appropriate.

“I always wanted to go to London. Or maybe Scotland?” asked Belle, knowing of how much Gold loved his home country. She had always wanted to visit Britain, but even though the idea of traveling with Gold was magical, a voice warned her not to put too much too much faith in hope, for hope could be cruel.

“I would love nothing more than to show you the old country. The castles, the towns, the coast…”

Talking about Scotland and a possible trip there effectively changed the subject. Both felt the course of action had been decided upon, and so best to let it rest for the evening. As it got later, Belle asked Gold if he would stay over and he only too happily agreed.

“I love you,” Gold murmured, when they were together in bed, her head resting on his chest and his arms around her. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” _I only hope I really can protect you_ , he finished silently.

“And I love you,” she murmured into his chest. _So much. What have I ever done to deserve someone like you?_

And they fell asleep together, each finding comfort in the other’s presence and closeness and able to, for the night, banish their own misgivings.

 


	20. Hooked

Belle’s heart sank when she woke up the next morning to an empty bed. She looked at the empty space next to her and wished the previous night had just been a bad dream. Gold had seemed to be on board with her proposed plan, but if he wasn’t, she wouldn’t go through with it. They would find another way. It was the first idea that had occurred to her, but she was confident that together they could figure out something else. Getting rid of Gaston wasn’t worth what she had with Gold. 

But then she heard a low voice from the next room, and she got out of bed and walked to the doorway. She felt her heart lift when she saw that Gold hadn’t left, but rather was in the living room, talking on his phone and gazing out the window. Seeing her, he said abruptly, “That will be all, thank you,” and hung up before turning towards her, his expression softening.

She walked over to lean against him and he put his arms around her.

“Good morning,” he murmured to the top of her head. 

Belle looked up at him, her hands smoothing his shirt collar, and smiled. “Hey.”

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Gold asked her, the concern evident in his face.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice quiet but determined. “If you are sure you are ok with it.”

“I don’t like it, but if you’re willing to do this, the least I can do is to stand by your side. I will always be there for you.” He took a deep breath. “I will talk to the Sheriff today. Perhaps you could stop by the pawnshop after the library closes?”

Belle nodded. She could tell from his forced calm and the tension in his face how much it was costing him and her heart clenched. “Of course. Thank you, for being there. I’m so sorry, for all of this. I just want him gone.”

Gold shook his head. “No apologies are necessary. I should get going.” 

And all too soon he was gone. She sat on her sofa in the pale morning light – it was still quite early – and hugged her knees to her chest. With Gold by her side, it was easy to be brave, but now, on her own, she wasn’t so sure. But then she thought back to all Gaston had put her through, and her resolve hardened. This was her chance. 

***

Thursday found Belle in the library watching the clock hands. It seemed they moved faster than they should. She had the morning shift and then the afternoon off, and come one o’clock she would be heading to the docks, to the bar that had always been a favorite of Gaston’s, to see if it was still where he conducted business.

She thought back to the previous evening in Gold’s shop. Gold had spoken with Sheriff Swan and procured the listening devices, and although he hadn’t said much about it, she got the sense the sheriff had been reluctant to go along with their plan, but he had managed to convince her. 

They had stood across the table from each other as Gold show her how to use the devices and as he brought up the subject she had been tentative to mention, that they would have to stop seeing each-other, or if they did, it would have to be covertly. He was business-like, almost cold, in approach and tone, and seemed to have thought everything out. They could still be in contact – he insisted on that, and that she update him and let him know immediately if she felt unsafe – but he suggested she change his name in her phone. When he said he could keep the shop open late on the days when she would see Gaston, so she could come over after, she moved around table to hug him. 

The physical contact broke the barrier between them. He held her tightly, his embrace expressing the concern he couldn’t put into words. They had spent the rest of the night sitting on the sofa together, talking of small things but taking comfort from the other’s proximity. It was his sweet words and warm embrace that she drew strength from as she planned how she would guide the conversation with Gaston. She always liked to have a plan.

One o’clock came all too soon, and feeling grimly determined, Belle stopped by her apartment to change her clothes and makeup. When she was done, she looked like she had in high school, rebellious and angry, complete with dark makeup and ripped jeans and a leather jacket. As she looked at her reflection, she felt as if was playing a part, the part of the tough woman who would bring down Gaston’s criminal gang and enjoy it, and she felt a surge of confidence. She could do that, play that role, and maybe even enjoy it herself. She might despise Gaston, but she knew him quite well, and she could use all that painfully gained knowledge against him to pull this off.

Belle made her way to The Black Dog, the bar of Gaston’s choice, her head held high and sure of herself. It had been a while since she had been there, but it was still a world she was familiar with.

Pushing open the door, she made her way to the bar and asked if Gaston was there. 

“Aye, he’s in the back,” said the barman. “Funny, you’re the second one in inquiring about him today.”

“Oh really?” asked Belle, more to postpone seeing Gaston than out of any real curiosity.

“That fellow over there,” said the barman, pointing at a large man halfway down the bar nursing a pint. 

The man looked over as Belle glanced at him, and he smirked at her. She shot him a withering glare – the tough woman she was impersonating wouldn’t take that - and continued to the back of the bar, where she would find Gaston. 

She took a deep breath and knocked. A familiar voice called “come in” and so she pushed open the door. 

“Gaston,” she said, staying in the doorway, her countenance calm but her heart beating quickly. I’m tough, I can do this, and you’re an ass, she thought to herself.

“Belle,” he said, looking up from the table he was sitting at, a smile appearing on his face. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, and she could see him trying to think why she would seek him out.

For a moment they regarded each other, and then Belle said, “I was wondering if we could talk.” She was pleased that her voice didn’t shake.

“Have you eaten lunch yet? I have not, and perhaps we could talk over the meal,” he said.

“I have eaten, but we could still talk while you eat.”

“Very well,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve been eating here lately. The food isn’t awful, for a bar.”

And so they went back to the public area, Gaston pausing at the bar to order a sandwich, and found a table in the corner. 

“So, whatever brings you back here? It’s been a while,” said Gaston, surveying her, eyes not lingering in the right places.

“I’ve been thinking. You seemed to express interest in getting back together the other day,” she said.

“Hmm. I suppose I did. But what about Gold?”

“He’s a distraction.” Belle shrugged disinterestedly, but she mentally winced. 

“Well then,” said Gaston, a glint in his eye. “I do want you back. And the added bonus of making him look like a fool is not at all unenticing." 

“You’ll have to win me back though. As you admitted the other day, you haven’t exactly been a gentleman in the past. You’ll have to prove it’s worth my while to chose you over him.” She almost couldn't believe she was saying those things to Gaston, but pushed those thoughts out of her head. 

Gaston nodded. He would have been disappointed if it had been that easy. “Oh, I think I can do that, my dear.”

“I think you can too. You can be quite charming when you put your mind to it.” Belle paused, and then continued, confidence gained from the success so far. This was the tricky bit, and based very much on their past. She only hoped what he had said when they were in high school still held true. “I think, if we were able to work out our personal differences, we could accomplish a lot in this town.”

“Dear Belle, are you suggesting what I think you are?” asked Gaston, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“I believe I am,” said Belle coolly. “You used to say that I could be a valuable asset. Does that still hold true?” 

“Indeed it does. I suppose a librarian does not make all that much?”

“No. And there are limited opportunities in this town.”

“Like Gold,” said Gaston with a smirk.

Belle nodded. “I prefer to be in charge of my own fate and not to be beholden to anyone.”

“You were always independent.” He sounded mildly impressed, and Belle dared to hope that she was in. 

“Of course, a successful business relationship will be dependent on a successful personal relationship,” she said, dropping her voice seductively and reaching across the table to stroke his face, letting her fingers drag his jaw, noting with grim satisfaction that his breath caught at her touch. “Let me know. You know where to find me.” And she left before he could answer or before she broke character. 

Belle strode out of the bar and back into the winter sunlight. As soon as she was far enough away, she ducked into an alleyway and leaned against the wall, drawing in shaky breaths, her heart beating fast. She couldn’t quite believe she had just had that conversation; it seemed as if it had been someone else. The words had come so naturally and she was torn between being appalled at herself and feeling triumphant that she had successfully played the man who had haunted her for so long. 

Once she had collected herself, she headed to the pawnshop. She wanted to see Gold, to be reassured of all that was right in her world.

Belle knocked at the back door as they had arranged, and Gold answered it quickly and wrapped her up in a tight hug.

“Belle, are you alright? You’re shaking.” His voice was taunt with concern.

“I’m fine, I really am. It’s the adrenaline.” She tried to reassure him. 

“Maybe you can tell me about it over tea?” 

Belle nodded and they sat together on the sofa and she told him everything while he listened attentively. 

“I’m impressed,” he said slowly when she was done. 

She shook her head. “I don’t know whether to feel disgusted or pleased with myself. It was so easy to say those things. Ugh. When we were in high school, he tried to encourage me to join him because he said I had 'book smarts.' I thought maybe I could use that, but I didn't say anything about it before because I wasn't sure if I would have the nerve to go through with it.” She finished on an almost apologetic note, and looked to Gold, hoping for reassurance. 

Gold nodded. “It's no matter. You did well today. You successfully pulled him in, and I imagine he finds it hard to believe a woman could betray him, especially one he has feelings for and thinks has feelings for him." 

Belle made a face at that. "Do you really think we can pull this off?" she asked him, searching his face. "Are you really ok with this? I hate the way we talked about you."

"I think we can do it. And don't worry about me." Gold smiled to try to reassure her, even though Belle worried him. "You can push my name through the dirt as much as you need. But always remember be careful. It wouldn't do to get overconfident. He is quite dangerous. But now we'll see what happens."

“Now we’ll see what happens,” she agreed. “Thank you. I know this can’t be easy.” And she scooted close to him and was reassured when he put his arm around her and held her tightly. 

"I love you," she murmured, squeezing his hand. 

"And I love you," Gold responded, and Belle knew that come what may, she could face whatever the future might hold as long as Gold was with her.


	21. A Dinner Date

Gaston came into the library the day after their meeting in the Black Dog (a Friday). Belle raised an eyebrow as he came in; his arrival the day after their talk and her proposition told her more than he probably wanted to let on. He wanted this to work. Maybe the power balance had shifted subtly.

She watched him walk up to the reception desk and stood up, mentally preparing herself.

“Hello Gaston,” she said.

“Hello Belle,” he returned, leaning against the counter and studying her.

She stepped back and crossed her arms, returning his gaze and waiting for him to say something more. When he didn’t, she asked, “What brings you to the library? This isn’t somewhere you’re normally found.”

“I’m here for you, or have you forgotten already?” And even though he was still smiling, there was a glint in his eye that reminded her who she was dealing with, that no matter how much Gaston might want for them to be involved romantically and otherwise, he was still very dangerous.

“Of course not. I was just waiting for you to ask me out properly. I believe being a gentleman is how this game is supposed to work.”

 A look of surprise flitted across his face and he said mildly, “Very well then. Belle French, would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tomorrow night? I’ll make reservations at The Little Mermaid.”

“I would be happy to,” replied Belle, and as she hated herself for smiling back at him, she told herself it was for the greater good. Winning his confidence would help her win her way into his inner circle, and then it would be a matter of time before he was gone for good. “What time can I expect you?”

“I’ll pick you up around seven, if that sounds good.”

“I’ll see you at seven then,” she said.

He lingered for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more, and then he left. Belle made a face at his back as he walked out, and sighed. This was really happening. It’s just dinner though, she told herself, and diner at one of Storybrooke’s fanciest restaurants nonetheless. Maybe she’d at least get a good meal out of it. But probably not; she doubted she would be able to enjoy her food.

Her eyes not leaving Gaston’s retreating back, she reached her phone to text Gold, in part to fill him in and in part because she wanted to hear from him, hear his words of encouragement and reassurance.

But as the hours stretched on, Gold didn’t respond, and Belle’s anxiety grew. When she knew he was behind her, she felt she could do anything; without him… well, without him she didn’t like her chances. Finally, as closing time approached, her phone buzzed with a message from Gold saying he had been busy during the day with rent collection but he could be in the pawn shop if she wanted to stop by. 

Belle responded almost instantaneously, saying she would like that very much, and so, after locking up the library, she took the circuitous route to the side door, her heart the lightest it had been all day.

Gold opened the door at her first knock and ushered her inside, concern on his face. She had barely stepped inside when she hugged him tightly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t respond earlier,” he murmured in to her hair, his arms around her. “My phone died early on in the day-“

“Don’t,” she said, smoothing his jacket lapels, but avoiding his gaze. “You shouldn’t have to plan your day around me and my crazy plans and I don’t know-" 

“Shh,” he murmured. “I think you’re just nervous and you’ll be fine. If you still want to go through with it, that is. If not, that’s fine too.”

She finally looked into his face and met his eyes and smiled gratefully at his words. “I do,” she said, very softly. “If you’re ok with it. I wouldn’t risk what we have though.”

“I’m here. And I always will be, as long as you want me to be,” said Gold. “Now, what about dinner? I can pick up some take-out.”

And so Gold ducked out to the Thai restaurant and they spent the evening together in the back room of the pawnshop. 

***

At seven on Saturday Belle was waiting outside the library for Gaston to pick her up. He arrived on time and she got into his car, but before he pulled away, he checked his phone and then turned to her.

“I think a change of plans is in order. How does The Golden Apple sound, instead of The Little Mermaid?” 

The Golden Apple was another of Storybrooke’s fancy restaurants, and while Belle didn’t have a preference when her dining companion was Gaston, she wondered about the change.

“I thought you made reservations,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Why the change of plans?”

Gaston shrugged and said, “My reasons are my own.

“Fine,” said Belle. “It’s all the same to me.”

“We’ll see,” said Gaston, leaving Belle wondering what he was playing at.

She saw exactly what when they walked into the restaurant and she saw Gold sitting with Regina at a table in the corner. He looked up they entered and his face hardened.

“Really?” she hissed, keeping her face calm only with great effort. “This is why you wanted to change restaurants?” 

Gaston smirked. “We did say making him look the fool was one of the perks.”

 But she noticed Gaston was studying her too, no doubt trying to see her reaction.

Belle forced herself to roll her eyes and shake her head, but on the inside she was hating Gaston and her heart was hurting for Gold.

“Changing restaurants just to rub it in his face? A bit juvenile if you ask me.”

Gaston merely smiled and said, “Ah, but appearances matter. I want to make it clear to him where he stands, and that he’s lost this round.”

At that Belle was able to smile for real, as she took pleasure in how wrong Gaston was about everything. “I suppose he has,” she agreed, thinking to herself that she wanted nothing more than to see the look on his face when he realized how easily he had been fooled.

Gaston nodded. “Well, shall we head to our table?”

And so they walked to their table, Gaston’s hand much to low on her back and Belle fighting to keep a smile on her face. They sat so that Belle was facing Gold, but he had looked down once they went to their table and didn’t look up as Belle and Gaston ordered.

They got through the appetizers civilly enough and then Gaston excused himself to use the restroom. Belle’s heart sank as she saw he was taking the long way that took him to Gold’s table. Somehow she hadn’t thought how much Gold would be involved, and that he would have a part to play too, and wouldn’t just be in the background. As soon as Gaston had moved on she pulled out her phone to text Gold. 

_I’m so sorry he did this on purpose I’m so sorry can I see you tonight?_

Gold looked up almost immediately and his face was hard as their eyes met. She mouthed “I’m sorry” and bit her lip and his gaze softened and he nodded. Her phone buzzed as he responded: _You have nothing to apologize for. I’ll be at the shop. Stay in character._

Belle smiled gratefully at him and he allowed himself a small smile in return before giving a warning shake of his head and looking away. She dropped her gaze and by the time Gaston returned there were no visible signs of the connection between Belle and Gold.

***

When Belle had told him of her plans with Gaston, Gold had gritted his teeth and put on a good face, but on the inside he hated every part of it, and so he had jumped at the offer when Regina suggested dinner Saturday night. He had hoped it would help him take his mind off everything, but then Gaston had to walk into the same restaurant.

Regina noticed them first, and she murmured, “Deep breath now, Gold. Gaston just walked in.”

Gold immediately looked around without any pretense of being subtle and fought to push back the hot anger that surged through him at the sight of Belle and Gaston together. Gaston looked around and smirked and it was obvious it was no coincidence.

“Easy, Gold. I bet the little bastard planned this. The angrier you appear, the more it plays into his hands,” hissed Regina, and only through great strength of will did Gold tear his gaze away.

 “I told you this was an awful plan,” said Regina, but there was sympathy instead of smugness in her voice. 

“She looks happy with him,” said Gold in a low voice.

“She is a good actress. But there is something forced in her smile, though luckily Gaston can’t seem to see it.”

“Really?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Regina shot him a look and he said quickly, “I didn’t mean that. I just… I hate seeing them together. I'm worried about something going wrong."

Regina nodded and reached out to grasp his hand. “It is a daunting undertaking. But I think Miss French might be able to pull it off. She is not enjoying it though.”

By not looking at where Gaston and Belle were sitting, Gold was able to make it through the salad, but then Gaston was making his way over to their table.

“Gold,” he sneered.

“Gaston,” Gold said coldly, and it was only Regina’s hand on his leg under the table that prevented him from standing up. He narrowed his eyes at Gaston and reached for the anger and hardness that he had built up over the years. “What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing much,” said Gaston smugly. “The last time we spoke I believe you said something about Belle choosing her own path. I think she’s made her decision, don’t you?”

“So she has,” said Gold bitingly. “It’s a pity to see her come down in the world. She had such potential.” There was such hardness in his voice that some of the smugness on Gaston’s face faded.

“We’ll see about that,” said Gaston.

“As you said, she has made her choice. I imagine she will come to regret it, but it matters not to me anymore,” Gold snapped.

Gaston opened his mouth to respond but Regina said in a tone that left no room for argument, “That’s enough of that Mr. Rose. Continue on your way.” And with both Gold and Regina glaring at him, Gaston closed his mouth and continued to the restroom.

“Gold. Gold, are you alright?” Regina touched his shoulder lightly and he jumped at the touch. It took him a moment to return to himself and he saw Regina was looking at him with something close to concern.

“I… yes, I’m fine,” he said quietly, thinking it was a good thing Regina intervened because he wasn't sure what would have happened if the conversation had continued. His phone buzzed and, seeing it was from Belle, he glanced over at her. For a moment he held on to his anger, but seeing the anxiety on her face, he forcefully reminded himself that she was likely worried enough about Gaston and that the last thing he should do was add to her worries. So he forced himself to smile back at her and responded to her message.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Regina asked again. “That was quite the performance.”

“Yes. The sooner this is over the better though,” said Gold in a low voice.

 “Of course. If there’s anything I can do to help, do let me know.” Regina changed the subject and they finished their dinner, but she was concerned about her friend. She hadn’t seen him so upset in a long time, and she was worried what might happen if the charade stretched on too long.

***

Gaston returned to the table looking thoughtful and Belle was glad he didn’t bring up whatever conversation he had had with Gold.

Instead, they chatted about other goings-on in Storybrooke. Belle was surprised they could carry on a conversation with relative success; all she had to do was ask questions and appear interested in the responses. She asked about the people who ran in Gaston’s circles to see if they were the same she remembered and for the most part they were. 

“Yes, it will be like a reunion of sorts,” said Gaston and Belle nodded. They were people she had distanced herself from, but she comforted herself that the “reunion” would only be temporary.

“So next Wednesday we’ll all be meeting and you can say hi to everyone. You won’t be the only new face. It looks like we have another new member to the gang.”

“Oh?” asked Belle, wanting to catch all the details about a potential meeting.

“Yes. He’s an outsider actually, new to Storybrooke. You might have met him – he came to see me the same day you did.”

Belle remembered the large man at the bar and nodded. “You were always wary about new people. Did this man do something special to earn your trust so quickly?”

“His name is Sterling. He will have to earn our trust, but his credentials are impressive. He ran with one of the groups in Chicago, and the background check we’ve ran on him has come out clean. He’ll be a valuable asset, especially if we wish to expand into certain fields.”

And their conversation moved on, Belle on the alert for any information that might be incriminating. Afterwards he drove her back to the library and she hoped she would be able to get rid of him easily.

“Well, thank you for dinner,” she said as he stopped the car.

“You’re very welcome,” he replied and made to get out.

Heart sinking, she got out as well and he walked around to stand by her.

“I suppose this is good night, unless…” he murmured, standing very close to her, raising his hand to stoke her cheek.

“No,” she said, softly but firmly, very aware how much taller he was. “We are taking things slowly, to make sure we get it right this time.”

“Very well. Can I get a good night kiss, at least?” he asked and she nodded and so he brought up his hands to cup her face and leaned in for a kiss.

Belle fought back the urge to push him away and afterwards she let herself into the library, pausing by the second door until he had driven away, then heading over to the pawnshop.

She knocked on the door, fretful about seeing Gold after the encounter at the restaurant. He opened the door, but stepped back, the anger not quite gone from his face.

Belle walked in uncertainly. “Hey,” she said softly, searching his face for the man that she loved.

He nodded and she moved to hug him. He hesitated a moment in returning her embrace, and then said softly, “Oh Belle,” and when she drew back, the hardness was gone. Only when she was in his arms did he finally feel the anger leave him.

They stayed close together, their foreheads touching.

“I… I was so angry when I saw him with you and when he came over to the table,” Gold said softly.

“I’m sorry he brought you into it,” murmured Belle. “The only way I’m able to smile at him is because on the inside I’m thinking how accomplished I’ll feel when he’s in jail and that he never saw it coming, the arrogant prick. 

And she kissed him and he returned the kiss and at first the kisses were soft but soon became hungry and they moved together toward the sofa, each seeking solace and reassurance in the other. 

The morning would come, but they had the hours until dawn to themselves.

 

 


	22. Valentine's Day

 

(Sunday) 

When Belle woke up it was still dark outside. She was still on the sofa in the back room of the pawnshop, and Gold was sitting at the table with a lamp on, reviewing some documents and frowning.

She pushed herself up and said softly, “Hey.”

Gold looked over at her and smiled, but he looked tired and the lamplight made the lines on his face all the starker. “Hey. You’re awake.”

“You should have woken me up so you could go home and get some sleep.”

“I wanted to let you sleep.”

Her heart constricted with emotion and she got up to stand behind him and put her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. Gold put his hand over hers and sighed.

“I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news. Valentine’s Day is on Tuesday.”

“Oh dear. That is unfortunate.” Belle pulled away and sat next to him and said, in a tone of forced nonchalance, “Well, I suppose that doesn’t really change anything. We’ll continue as is. He said there was a meeting on Wednesday, so if luck is with us I can get all we’ll need then and it will over all the sooner.” 

“But before Wednesday comes Tuesday.” There was a hardness in Gold’s voice, and anger in his eyes. He was worried that the holiday would provide an excuse for Gaston to try to force intimacy and he could tell she knew what he was concerned about without him saying it. 

Belle sighed. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to get out of seeing him. I’ll go along with things, to a point. But only to a point and no further. If he pushes things, I’ll tell him it’s that time of the month, which will get him to back off.”

Gold bit his tongue to keep from saying more – if she could be brave enough to go through with the plan, he would not add to her burden. Instead he put his hand over hers and said softly, “I’m just worried about you. And I would so much prefer for you to spend Valentine’s Day with me.”

Belle smiled at that. “Me too. Next year.

The idea that they had a future was enough to put a smile on Gold’s face too. “Next year,” he echoed.

Belle reluctantly left to head back to her apartment while it was still dark, even though she would have rather spent the day with Gold, and he watched her leave with a heavy heart. 

***

Later that Sunday afternoon there was an angry knocking on Belle’s door. Worried that it might be Gaston, she was hesitant to answer until she heard Ruby’s voice.

 “Belle French, you open this door right now!”

 Allowing herself a small smile, she opened the door to find Ruby and Mary Margaret in the hall, the former looking furious and the latter concerned.

 Ruby pushed in the moment the door was open and turned on Belle. “What the hell is Gaston doing back in Storybrook? And what are you doing getting dinner with him? What about Gold? If he’s giving you trouble-“

 Belle put up a hand to stop her friend, thinking she should have filled her friends in before. “Ruby, it’s ok! It’s not what you think. Not at all. You two should come in and sit and I’ll tell you the full story.”

 The three of them sat in Belle’s mismatched living room and she haltingly told them of Gaston’s reappearance and her decision how to deal with him.

 When she had finished they were quiet for a minute, and then Ruby said, “Well. That’s quite the plan. An admirable undertaking.”

 “That sounds scary, but you always were brave,” said Mary Margaret. “How’s Gold taking it?”

 “He doesn’t like it-“ began Belle but Ruby snorted. “Of course he doesn’t. He must hate it.”

 Belle nodded. “But we couldn’t think of anything else, of any other way to get rid of Gaston for good. I’m sorry I have to put him through this though, and drag him into my problems.”

 "I imagine he’ll be thrilled to see Gaston gone for good though,” said Ruby. “So how is Operation-get-Gaston-out-of-Storybrooke going?”

 “There is a meeting on Wednesday, so if I can get enough information then, it might not be much longer, but we’ll see.”

 “Is there anything we can do?” asked Ruby.

 “Hmm,” said Belle. “I guess if you guys could just go along with things as if there was nothing out of the ordinary… I guess people will talk, won’t they, with me going out with Gold one week and then Gaston the next…”

 “So let them talk,” said Ruby defiantly. “The people who matter know the truth.”

 “Very true,” agreed Belle. “Our friend group and Gold. It doesn’t really matter what the rest of the town says…”

 “Right,” said Mary Margaret. “And we have your back, no matter what. You can trust us to back up whatever story you want told.”

 “Thank you,” said Belle. “It means a lot to know I have you guys on my side.”

 They talked of other things and Mary Margaret and Ruby stayed until late into the evening, and Belle was once again grateful for her wonderful group of friends.

 ***

As she had thought might happen, Gaston called her Monday morning to make plans for Valentine’s Day. They would get dinner and then see a movie. As soon as she hung up on Gaston, she called Gold, as much to fill him in as to just hear his voice.

On Tuesday morning as she left for work she found a box of her favorite chocolates outside her door. The card only said “See you tonight?” with a heart, but the gold ribbon gave her a good idea who it was from. Smiling to herself, she took it inside and put it in a cabinet, so it would be out of sight, and texted Gold to tell him the approximate time she would be over that night. She didn’t care that it was risky; the thought of seeing Gold would help her make it through the evening.

All too soon Belle was waiting outside of the library for Gaston to pick her up. He arrived on time (it seemed to was making an effort to be prompt and attentive, perhaps to try to show her he was turning over a new leaf) and got out with flowers and chocolate for her.

“These are for you, my dear,” he said.

“Why thank you,” she said, noting he had gotten expensive chocolates and telling herself she could eat both boxes herself that night if she could just get through the date. “I’ll run up and put these in my apartment, and then we can head to dinner.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said, and because she could think of no reason why he shouldn’t, Gaston ended up following her upstairs.

Her heart beating too quickly, she unlocked her apartment and stepped inside, grateful she had hidden the chocolate from Gold. She put the new box on the table and went into the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers. At first Gaston stayed in the living room, but as she was trimming the flowers, he came into the kitchen and put his arms around her from behind, holding her tightly, and kissed her neck.

Belle had to force herself not to shudder at his touch or stab him with the scissors. Taking a deep breath and putting the scissors down, she turned around, intending to push him away, but then he was kissing hard on the mouth and pressing her painfully into the counter. She put up with it for a minute, telling herself she had to make it seem realistic, but then she had had enough and she broke the kiss.

“Gaston,” she murmured. “Don’t we have dinner reservations?” _And you’re a truly awful kisser_.

“Yes, but we could change our plans.” He was breathing heavily and was still much too close and there was a look in his eye that she didn’t like at all.

“Not like this. I told you, I wanted to take it slowly,” said Belle, trying to sound coy. _Not ever, you asshat._

Gaston sighed. “Very well. If you so insist.”

“I do. And when the day comes, I want romance and seduction and the proper setting. And, for the record, my kitchen does not count as a ‘proper setting.’ Now let me put the flowers in the vase, and we can be on our way.”

Gaston lingered in the kitchen, but didn’t try anything else as she finished with the flowers and they headed back outside to his car.

Gaston had made reservations at The Little Mermaid, and, as before, Belle found dinner bearable in part because Gaston was so happy to talk about himself. They made it through the meal, and Belle had to admit that even Gaston’s presence did not completely dim the pleasure of the chocolate soufflé desert.

Belle cautiously inquired about the meeting the next day, and Gaston told her it would be in the back room of The Black Dog at 9. He wouldn’t be able to pick her up, as he had other business to attend to, but she assured him that would be fine. On the inside she was relieved and thought she could arrive early and perhaps set up the listening device, and she told him she could bring snacks as a reason for her to arrive early.

Then they were headed to the movie theater, the part of the evening Belle had been looking forward to the least. She didn’t like being in so public a place with him and the idea of two hours in the dark theater was not appealing. Sure enough, as the lights dimmed he put an arm around her and throughout the film he subtly tried to pull her closer or put his hands different places.

Belle made it through the movie, but at the end she could hardly have said what it had been about. She had focused on Gold and her friends and the thought that perhaps as soon as the next week Gaston might be gone for good. Luckily, Gaston wasn’t one to want to discuss a film in depth, and was content when she had just said she enjoyed it and agreed with his thoughts.

Gaston drove her back to her apartment and Belle hoped she wouldn’t have too much trouble getting rid of him. He stopped the car and turned to face her for a goodnight kiss, putting his hand much too high up on her leg.

“Are you sure this is where we part? It is Valentine’s Day…” he said, his voice low.

“I am sure this is all for tonight,” said Belle, and she reached to stroke his face. “Thank you for a lovely evening. See you tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow, then, my dear." 

And Belle got out of the car and walked to the library without glancing back, going up to her apartment to get her Valentine’s Day present for Gold. It was a handsome, leather-bound collection of Chekov’s plays, as Gold had mentioned that he had never read any of them and they were some of Belle’s favorite. 

Making sure Gaston had left, she left the library and went around to the back entrance of the pawnshop and almost fell into Gold’s arms when he opened the door and was kissing him before he shut the door.

“Belle, is everything alright?” he asked, pulling away slightly.

 “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I just… I love you, so so much. Thank you for just being you. You’re the most perfect person.”

Gold smiled back at her rather bemusedly. “And I love you too. Although I think you might be being too kind.”

Belle smiled. She was on the verge of telling him that not all men were like him – some, like Gaston, couldn’t be more different – and she was so very grateful to have such a wonderful partner in him, but then she thought that Gaston’s shadow had hung over them enough for the night, and so she just pulled out the his present and handed it to him. 

“No, I’m not,” she said, shaking her head. “But this is for you.”

Gold’s jacket was draped over a chair and he reached into the pocket to pull out a small box, which he handed to her. “And this is for you.”

She unwrapped and opened it to find a beautiful pair of ruby earrings and thanked him profusely and was glad he seemed pleased with his present as well.

The presents were soon abandoned on the table as they returned to each-other’s arms. She started to undo his tie and his hands slipped under her shirt and soon they moved to the sofa to celebrate Valentine’s Day as it should be celebrated by lovers.

 ***

Wednesday evening found Belle headed to The Black Dog, with a tin of freshly baked cookies and the listening device. She was nervous but determined, and even though her heart was beating quickly, she concentrated on the idea of a Gaston-free Storybrooke and pressed on.

She was let into the backroom (normally it was locked and guarded) and figured Gaston had informed the necessary people she would be attending the meeting as well. In the back room there was a large round table with chairs and shelves with binders and ledgers and rather crude posters on the walls.

Checking her watch, she saw it was 8:30 – plenty of time to figure out how to set up the device. They could be stuck to something, and she thought perhaps she could stick it under the table, but then she would have to get it back again. She also thought perhaps she could just keep it in her bag, but that might impede sound quality and what if they checked?

She took it out and thought she might as well figure out how to turn it on and then see where it could covertly be placed. As she was trying to do so, the door opened and she froze. It was the new man, Sterling.

 Even as fear flooded through her, she straightened up to look him the eye, her mind racing with explanations. _Stay strong_ , she told herself. _Don’t act guilty, don’t panic._

Willing her voice to be calm, she said, “It’s not what you think.”

The big man smiled. “On the contrary, love, I think it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“And what exactly is that?” she tried to sound dismissive.

The man just smiled. “But, fortunately for you, I am not who you think I am.”

“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously.

“Let’s just say our loyalty is to the same man, and he isn’t Gaston.”

Belle’s heart rose and she hardly dared to hope. “You mean… do you work for…?”

 “For Gold, aye. Now, let’s see what you have there.” He closed the distance between them and took the device.

“I was having trouble turning it on,” said Belle, almost shaking from relief. She hadn't thought should could love Gold anymore, and yet, finding out he had been trying to look after her the whole time...

Sterling deftly fiddled with it, and the little green light beeped on, showing that it was in recording mode.

“Here we go,” he said and was holding it out to her when the door opened again.

This time it was Gaston. He paused in the doorway, eyes flickering from Sterling to the listening device to Belle.

“Well, what do we have here?”

 


	23. Never Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long to update the story. Life has gotten in the way, but I'll try to be better going forward. Thanks for still reading!

 

Gaston stood in the doorway, looking from Belle to Sterling.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding at the device. The look in his eye told Belle he knew exactly what it was.

Belle opened her mouth to say something, she didn’t know what, when Sterling spoke.

“It’s what it looks like. Someone’s trying to listen in on the meeting. But your girl here found it.”

“Oh, really?” asked Gaston. “Where was it?”

“Under the table,” answered Belle without missing a beat. “I dropped my phone and when I knelt to pick it up I saw something blinking. I was wondering what it was when Sterling here came in.”

Gaston nodded. “Well. It looks like you’re already bringing us good luck, Belle.” His eyes were hard and angry, but it looked like he was buying the story and Belle fought to keep her relief from showing.

She just shrugged and raised an eyebrow at him. “It looks like you have a mole.”

Sterling said, “When we talked the other day, I mentioned that your security is lacking. If you want to move into the big leagues, you can’t be sloppy.”

Gaston glared at the big man. “How I run my organization is my concern-“

“It’s mine too if I’m part of it,” said Sterling amicably enough, but there was a steely undertone.

“We will discuss it later. The others should be arriving soon. Not a word of this beyond us three. I’ll deal with it later and in the meantime I don’t want anyone to get tipped off.”

And sure enough, the other members of Gaston’s gang began to trickle in almost as soon as he was done talking. They seated themselves around the table and didn’t seem surprised to see Belle. She figured Gaston had already told them and settled herself at his right, doing her best to look like she belonged there.

Part of the way through the meeting, as the men spoke of plans and sales, she realized she hadn’t seen where the recording device had been put. She figured it had been turned off and stashed somewhere and she would have to wait until the next meeting to get a recording. She sighed inwardly as she contemplated both how long she would have to keep pretending and how the current meeting’s discussion would have been ideal to get a recording of. They were talking about a delivery that would take place that weekend and the different roles they would all play and a recording of such a conversation would do a lot of damage in the hands of the police.

As the meeting drew to a close, Gaston requested a few extra words with some of the men, and Belle thought she could slip away. But then he turned to her and said he could drive her home, and because she couldn’t think of a reason for him not to, she reluctantly sat down again.

Gaston questioned the two remaining men about a fight that had taken place a few weeks prior, and if there were still lingering grudges. Belle figured he was trying to get information about a possible traitor, but nothing came of it. Eventually he let the two men go.

“So, what do you think? Do they know something?” Belle asked.

“I’m not sure. I need to investigate further,” said Gaston. He looked troubled. “The lieutenants are men I’ve hand-picked. I don’t know why one would suddenly decide to turn on me.”

Belle didn’t say anything, but wondered at the fact that he didn’t seem to suspect her at all.

“Well,” said Gaston abruptly, standing up. “Whoever it is, he’ll be sorry. Come on, let’s get going.”

He drove her back to the library and when they got there he turned to look at her.

“Is this it, then? If you keep putting me off, I’ll start to wonder how serious you are about this whole thing,” he said. His tone was light, almost teasing, but Belle realized she was in a quandary.

If she continued to rebuff him completely, he might start to get suspicious, and him getting suspicious about her was the last thing she wanted when he was already wondering about his gang’s loyalty. Gaston wasn’t stupid, and she didn’t want to take any chance of him putting two and two together. However, if she played the one card she knew he would accept, she wouldn’t be able to play it again, and if the charade was going to last longer, she could run into trouble later. But in the end she decided to play it.

“Oh, Gaston,” Belle murmured, and she leaned over and stroked his cheek and kissed him deeply. “I am most definitely serious, but it is that time of the month. So you’ll have to wait a bit longer.”

He grabbed her wrist as she made to pull away, and for a moment she was afraid he hadn’t believed her, but then he pulled her closer for another kiss and said, “Very well then. I’ll be waiting, and I’ll make sure it’s a special evening.”

Her stomach churning, Belle got out of the car and went into the library. She went up to her apartment, shaking, to brush her teeth and wait for him to leave. When she was sure he had, she slipped out and went across the street and down the side alley to the pawnshop’s back door.

She was about to knock on the door, when it opened and there was Sterling.

“Oh, hello,” she said.

“Ah, hello, Miss French, do come in,” said the big man, stepping back and allowing her to enter.

She went in and looked around immediately for Gold. He was standing by the far side of the table and looked up as she came in but stayed where he was.

“Belle. Sterling was filling me in on the events of the evening. It seems that you had a close call.” There was a terseness in his voice, and she paused on her way over to him.

"Yes, but it ended up alright," said Belle, concerned about the change in Gold's demeanor.

"More than alright. Sterling also stopped by to drop off the device. The entire meeting was recorded." But even as he delivered what Belle took to be wonderful news, the tension didn't leave his face.

"Really? How...? You managed to record it anyways?" Belle asked, turning to Sterling.

"Aye, that I did," said Sterling, nodding and smiling a satisfied smile. "I've been playing this game a good deal longer than the boys down at the docks. But I think my job here is done. Gold, I'll be in touch." And with that, he slipped out, leaving Belle and Gold regarding each other across the table.

"So that's it then, isn't it? We turn over the recording to the police, and then they can pick them up."

But Gold didn't return her smile. "Gaston almost found you out. You could have been hurt, you could have been killed." His voice was low and there was an edge behind it.

"But he didn't! And I'm fine and I'm here and this whole thing is just about over!" Belle was so elated at the prospect they had pulled it off, she hardly spared a thought for what might have been.

But Gold wasn't able to share her excitement. He was very upset that she had come so close to harm's way and frustrated she didn't seem to realize. The fear and worry for her and general anger at how little he could do weakened the walls he had built between the present and what had happened all those years ago.

"It's not over yet. Don't you realize how dangerous this is? You're playing with fire and you don't seem to notice!" snapped Gold, and there was definite anger in his voice.

The smile faded from Belle's face. "I do know how dangerous he is," she said quietly, determined not to get angry and to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. "I know very well what he's capable of."

"Do you? I don't know what I would do if something happened to you. I cannot go through that again-" and he stopped abruptly, aware he had said too much.

"Again?" asked Belle softly. How much he cared for was clearly evident, and she felt awful at having put him through so much, especially if current events somehow mirrored painful events in his past.

Gold looked away for a long minute and took a deep breath. This wasn't how he wanted the evening to progress, this isn't how he wanted to tell her. But he had made a mistake, he had said too much, and maybe it was just as well. He would have had to tell her at some point. When he looked back at Belle, there was pain in his face but when he spoke the anger was gone from his voice.

"I..." He began but trailed off, trying to find the words. Belle moved around the table to stand next to him. His hand was on the back of the chair and she put her hand over his.

"This isn't how I would have chosen to tell you. I would have told you, when the time seemed right, but maybe there's never a good time for telling this type of story."

He paused and gathered himself, and then took a deep breath and continued.

"A number of years ago, I was married. And... and I had a son.

His name was Baelfire."

He paused again trying to collect himself. No matter how many times he went over those events in his head, it didn't make telling them out loud any easier. Belle had a sinking feeling that she knew how the story ended, and shifted closer to him.

"He, Bae, was fifteen, just learning how to drive. He was a teenager, mischievous and rebellious and always trying to push at the boundaries. There had been an argument - he had wanted to go over to his friend's, but for whatever reason his mother and I had said no. I don't even remember why now.

So he stole the car keys to go anyways. But the winter was a long one that year, and there was a late freeze. The road was icy, and there was an accident."

Belle squeezed his hand, her heart hurting for the man she loved, wishing she could do more.

"I'll never forget the call from the police. It was the worst day of my life, and I'll always feel responsible. If we hadn't forbid it, he wouldn't have been driving so fast, if we had driven him...there are so many scenarios where the ending could have been different.

The marriage dissolved not long after. We both blamed ourselves and each other, and nothing anyone said could convince us otherwise."

Gold finished his story, his voice strained and barely above a whisper.

"I'm so sorry," said Belle softly.

"It's my cross to bear. It was my fault," Gold said, his voice raw with emotion.

Belle closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him, her head on his shoulder. After a moment he returned the embrace, holding her tightly.

"It wasn't your fault," murmured Belle, when he finally let go. "It was an accident."

Gold smiled a small, sad smile and shook his head. He could see in her eyes that she meant it, and that meant the world to him, but part of him would never believe it. It was after the accident that he threw himself into work, using the long hours and cold exterior to mask the pain.

Belle decided to take charge, as Gold looked tired and worn and utterly spent. "Sit," she said firmly. "I'll make tea."

Gold sank into the chair and Belle set about making tea in silence.

She put the two mugs on the table, and sat close to him. Reaching to take his hand again, she asked softly, "Will you tell me about Baelfire?"

Gold looked at her, surprised, but nodded and started to talk, haltingly at first, but then more smoothly as he got caught up in memories.

By the time the tea was done there was a sad wistfulness on Gold's face, but the pain was gone.

"Thank you for telling me his story. I'm sorry it had to come out like this. I'm sorry this undercover thing has caused you so much worry and pain. I love you, so much. I would never chose to hurt you, although I guess I did when I chose to do this," Belle said eventually, reaching to stroke his face.

He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes.

Opening them, he shook his head. "Thank you for listening. Don't apologize - you made a brave choice and you dared to act, and you succeeded. I'm proud of you."

Gold paused, but decided to push on. He loved the woman next to him with all his heart. She had reacted to his story, the one that had defined his life, not with judgment or pity, but with love and empathy. He would do it, he would invite her to share the date that meant the most to him.

"The anniversary of his death is coming up. March 15. Perhaps you would like to come with me to visit his grave. I go every year. It's a nice location in the cemetery, on the hill under a big tree. You can hear the ocean."

"Of course I'll be there if you want me to be," Belle said quietly. "I'll be by your side, as you've been by mine. Always."

Gold smiled at that. He suddenly was exhausted. "It's late. I should get going," he said, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I could come with you, if you want," Belle offered. She wanted to be there for him, after everything, and didn't want him returning alone to an empty house.

"It's too risky," said Gold, but without conviction. He wanted to be with her.

"The hell with that," said Belle stubbornly. "This is just about over anyways. He's almost gone for good."

"I suppose you're right. Very well then. I would love to have your company tonight." _Tonight and every night._

Gold pushed himself to his feet and offered Belle a hand. "Actually," he said, pausing, "What is your work schedule? Would you want to stay at my house through Friday?" Friday night was when Gaston's gang was interecepting the delivery, and hopefully when they would end up in jail. "I would feel better if you were not alone in the next few days, in case anyone's suspicions are raised and so there's no way you can be tied up in the events that will go down on Friday."

"Hmm. I would like that. Maybe I could call in sick to work and just stay at your house, stay out of the way." Belle said.

"No one will get suspicious if you're not at the library?" asked Gold.

"I don't think so," said Belle, shaking her head. "I don't think anyone problematic knows my schedule, and it changes often anyways. If anyone inquires they'll be told I'm home sick and then they can call and I can pretend to be ill." 

"Very well then," said Gold, pleased with how things were unfolding. He quite liked the idea of Belle staying at his house.

"I'll just duck across the street to get some things - my toothbrush, phone charger, change of clothes - and then we can go."

He watched her cross the street and go into the library and even though it was quite cold, he waited outside for her to reappear. He refused to take any chances.

After Belle had returned, Gold put the recording device in his safe and then hand in hand they went out to his car.

 


	24. Mission Accomplished

 

The temperature had dropped and it was quite cold by the time Gold pulled into his driveway. 

As they went inside, Gold asked, “Would you like anything to drink? Tea perhaps?”

“No, I’m fine,” answered Belle. “Only if you do.”

“No. I’m exhausted. I could just go to bed.”

“Me too.”

And so they went upstairs and got ready for bed together.

Belle thought how comfortable it felt to do something so normal, and how it was a level of intimacy above anything she had had with anyone else before. She had always felt she wasn’t very good at relationships, because they usually involved a certain level of opening-up, which she was hesitant to do. But Gold knew a lot – not everything, but more than most – and he had shown only loyalty and concern and love, not judgment or entitlement or condescension.

Gold turned off the light and Belle moved closer to him. He had almost forgotten how nice it was to have someone else in bed, someone to hold close. Having Belle with him eased the pain of retelling the story.

***

The next morning Gold woke up early and slipped out of bed to take a shower and get ready for work. As he was finishing, Belle woke up.

 “Good morning,” she said sleepily.

“Hey,” he said, turning and smiling at her. “You should stay in bed and go back to sleep. I’m going to see the Sheriff first thing, and then I’m heading to the pawnshop. I’ll be back this evening. Help yourself to anything in the house.”

“Have a good day,” said Belle, and she snuggled back under the covers and dozed off.

Several hours later she woke up and showered. Deciding she could cook dinner as a small way of saying thank you, she headed to the kitchen, but quickly saw that his cupboards were pretty much empty. There was enough to patch together brunch, but not much for cooking a full dinner.

She pulled out her phone, thinking she would check-in with Gold and see if maybe he could stop by the store on his way home.

Belle _._ 11:34. _Hey! How did your morning go?_

Belle.11:35 _. By the way, if you don’t mind stopping by the food store, I could cook dinner tonight._

Gold. 11:48. _Everything is in order for tomorrow._

Gold. 11:50. _I’ll stop by the store, but I’ll cook tonight. How does that sound?_ _J_ _You can cook tomorrow. Let me know what you’re planning, and I can pick up the ingredients._

Belle’s heart warmed at Gold’s text and she wondered briefly what to cook for the next day.

Belle. 11:59. _That sounds lovely! Hmm… how does paella sound?_

Gold. 12:03. _Delicious. Just let me know what to get._

And so Belle texted him the ingredients and then wondered how to spend her afternoon.

The temptation to explore Gold’s house won out, and so she left the kitchen to peer into the rooms she hadn’t yet seen. She quickly saw that there were several rooms that Gold used – the living room, his study, his bedroom, the kitchen – and the other rooms looked like they didn’t see much use. They all were furnished similarly, with dark wood furniture and the classical elegance of the rest of the house, but the unused rooms were rather dusty and some had boxes in them.

Belle satisfied herself with just looking into most of the rooms, not wanting to disturb anything, but paused in the doorway of one of the downstairs rooms when she saw one of the boxes had “PHOTOS” written on the side. She almost went into to look, intrigued at the thought of learning more about Gold’s past, but stopped herself. She remembered the pain in his eyes as he talked about his son, and decided that while she wanted to learn more about Gold, she wanted to learn from him.

Finally, her curiosity satiated, she curled up in one of the squashy armchairs in the living room to get lost in her book. She had just sat down when Gaston called. He wanted to arranged another date, and they planned to get dinner on Saturday. Afterwards Belle reflected it was much easier to just talk to him over the phone, because then he didn’t see her face. She tried not to dwell on the fact that by Saturday Gaston might be behind bars.

Gold returned around five, and upon hearing the door, Belle jumped up to greet him. She smiled as he came in carrying groceries, and impulsively she ran up to him and threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

Unable to hug her back, Gold kissed the top of her head. “Hey,” he said, somewhat bemusedly, smiling at his welcome, but thinking how nice it was to come home to someone. 

Belle took the bag from him and helped him bring in the others and they ended up in the kitchen.

“There’s enough food here for ages,” Belle remarked as they worked together to put away the food.

Gold shrugged. “I realized there wasn’t much in the kitchen. I hope you weren’t hungry?” 

“Not at all. So, what’s for dinner?”

“Well, I was thinking because it’s still very much winter and pretty cold outside, we could have a meal from the old country. Mulled wine, pork schnitzel, German-style potato salad, and green beans. I did also get ingredients for an apple-strudel like dessert, but we could hold off on that if it sounds like too much food.”

“That all sounds wonderful. You’re so wonderful! Just let me know how I can help,” Belle said, smiling broadly at him. She was so happy, she had had a lovely day, Gaston was almost gone for good, the man she loved was about to cook a delightful dinner.

Gold raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m glad you approve,” he said wryly. “Here, you can chop up the fruit for the mulled wine. We’ll do that first so it can simmer and the spices can mix.”

He paused, then figured he might as well bring it up sooner rather than later. “I spoke to the Sheriff this morning. She said she would take things from here,” he said quietly as he handed some of the apples and oranges to Belle. 

She took the fruit from him, her face cautiously optimistic. “Thank you. So they’ll be prepared for tomorrow?”

“Aye,” said Gold. “I believe our Sherriff to be competent. Let us hope that is true.”

After that they let the subject lapse, although it was always in the back of their minds. They worked well together in the kitchen and Gold told Belle about the Christmas markets in Europe. He talked about how around the holidays the centers of many European capitols were full of lights and decorations and had stands selling mulled wine and sausages and cider and handicrafts.

“It sounds so nice,” said Belle wistfully as she cut up potatoes.

“Maybe we could go next year,” said Gold, so softly that Belle almost didn’t hear.

She glanced at him to make sure she had heard correctly and his smile and the warmth in his eyes confirmed it. Their shared glance held all their warmth and love and hope for the future, which they didn’t need to put into words.

Dinner proved a great success and as they finished cleaning up, Gold suggested a movie.

“What about Seven Days In May? It’s an older film, but one of my favorites. During the Cold War, the president negotiates an arms deal with the Soviets where both countries agree to completely get rid of their nuclear weapons. The deal meets a great deal of resistance at home, and the military plans a coup to dispose of the president.”

Belle agreed, and so, deciding to forgo dessert, they headed to the living room with the rest of the mulled wine to watch the classic movie.

“That was a great choice,” said Belle as the credits played across the screen.

“I’m glad you liked it. It always seemed to me a very American movie, and that it showcases some of the qualities the country should be proud of and strive towards. I first saw it not long after I had arrived here, and it reminded me of what drew me to America in the first place.”

Normally Gold didn’t talk about his past and would change the subject, but that night after several curious questions on Belle’s part he opened up more and talked about growing up in Scotland with next to nothing and deciding as a young man to move to the U.S.

They talked late into the night and only reluctantly went upstairs to get ready for bed.

When Gold turned off the light Belle was still sitting up, and she said quietly, “I love spending time together. Cooking and watching a movie feels so special when it’s with you. It feels… it feels like home, something I haven’t felt for a long time.”

Gold’s heart clenched. “I love having you here. It’s been many years since this house has felt like home to me, but it does with you.

There’s something I was thinking about. I was going to wait until another time to ask, but I might as well do so now. When does your lease on the apartment end?”

“In June,” answered Belle, hardly daring to hope he meant what she thought he might.

“Would you consider moving in here when the lease ends? I would like nothing more than for you to be here always.”

“Yes! That would be wonderful,” breathed Belle, smiling broadly in the darkness.

 “Excellent,” murmured Gold. “When the current situation is taken care of, we can think more of it.”

***

The next morning Belle woke up after Gold had left.

Her day was similar to the previous one, but she was anxious. She tried not to think about what might happen that night, and instead tried to focus on reading and cooking. A phone call with Ruby took up some of her afternoon, as her friend called to check-in when she didn’t find Belle at the library.

Dinner was almost ready when Gold returned, but as they sat down to eat there was an underlying tenseness between them.

Finally Gold put his fork down after a half-hearted attempt to clean his plate (Belle had hardly touched her food) and said, “It’s very good, but I can’t enjoy it." 

Belle nodded. “I’m not hungry at all.”

Gold reached across the table to grasp her hand. “It’s going to be ok. However the events of this night unfold, it will be alright. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

But Belle wouldn’t meet his eyes. She was afraid to put too much store in hope and instead pulled her hand away and started to clear the table.

Gold sighed softly and stood to help her. How he wanted her to feel safe, especially when she was with him, but he recognized how shadows of times gone by could linger. He hoped that with time, and if everything was successful that night, eventually the past would recede.

Belle stayed quiet as they cleaned up, and when they were done Gold suggested another movie. He knew his mind wouldn’t be on the movie, and he suspected Belle’s thoughts would be elsewhere as well, but he wasn’t sure what else they should do.

Part way through the film Belle remarked that it was the time the meeting would be beginning.

Gold nodded and said that Regina had promised to call him and let him know if the police were successful in the arrests. He said that they had talked to Northern Cove, Storybrooke’s larger neighbor, for reinforcements to try to ensure the mission would be successful.

They continued to watch the movie without really watching and Gold watched Belle. Normally when they would watch movies she would sit close to him and he would put his arm around her, but now she sat slightly apart. Her arms were around her legs and her chin rested on her knees and she was looking towards the TV but he suspected she wasn’t seeing the movie. He was torn between wanting to close the gap between them and giving her her space.

When it was over Gold turned off the TV and they sat in the dark in silence for a few minutes.

“I can’t really imagine things without him,” said Belle quietly. “He’s been a presence in my life for so long…”

“He won’t hurt you again,” said Gold. “No matter what happens tonight.”

“I want to believe that. I want to look forward to a future with you. It's just...” she trailed off, trying to find the right words. 

“It’s one thing to tell yourself it, but another to believe it,” said Gold softly. “When something’s been a constant for so long, you can’t shrug it off so easily.”

Belle opened her mouth to respond when Gold’s phone rang. He grabbed for it, standing up as he answered.

“Regina, what happened?” he asked urgently as soon as he was connected.

Belle stood up too, her heart beating quickly, hoping the mayor had good news.

Gold listened intently, and then smiled broadly, saying to Belle, “They did it! It’s over!” before thanking Regina and bidding her good night.

“They really got him?” said Belle, hardly able to believe it had been successful. Relief and happiness flooded through her.

“Yes. I’ll get the details later, but yes. Gaston’s time in this town is over. He’s going away for a long, long time, and the police will make sure there’s no way anyone traces things back to you. Any leads they could find, which they won’t, will lead back to Sterling. You did it.”

Belle threw her arms around Gold, hugging him tightly and saying, “We did it. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Gold hugged her back. “You were on the front lines. You were the courageous one. I’m so proud of you.”

“But you were always there for me. I know what it cost you, but you never faltered.”

“Because I love you.” And he kissed her.

“And I love you.”

And trading kisses, they made their way upstairs, looking forward to their future together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There’s been abroad in this land in recent months a whisper that we have somehow lost our greatness, that we do not have the strength to win without war the struggles for liberty throughout the world. This is slander because our country is strong, strong enough to be a peacemaker. It is proud, proud enough to be patient. The whisperers and the detractors, the violent men are wrong. We will remain strong and proud, peaceful and patient, and we will see a day when on this earth, all men will walk out of the long tunnels of tyranny into the bright sunshine of freedom." – from Seven Days in May


	25. Early Though The Laurel Grows

In the first few weeks following the arrest, Belle had a hard time believing that Gaston might actually be out of her life for good. She would catch herself in moments of happiness, and check herself, telling herself it wouldn’t last, and then remember that maybe this time it actually would. 

About a week after the events that had ended Gaston’s presence in her life, Belle and Gold were eating lunch together, and she brought up something that had been on her mind lately.

“It’s my father’s court date next week,” she said quietly.

Gold looked at over at her, trying to ascertain where this was coming from. Belle rarely, if ever, talked about her family or childhood. “It is,” he said, equally quietly. 

Belle opened her mouth, and then paused, searching for the right words. “I… I guess if he gets convicted, which he will, and spends time in jail, the flower shop will go out of business.”

Gold nodded. “I think so.” 

“I…” Belle began, but trailed off, still searching for the words.

“Are you rethinking pressing charges against him? If you are, you just have to say the world and I will revoke them,” said Gold softly, wanting to remain of an impartial tone so as to allow her to make her own choice.

“It’s not about him. It’s just… if the flower shop closes for good this time, I’ll feel responsible. It was my mum’s pride and joy, and that’s why we’ve struggled to keep it open. It’s why I came back here after college. It’s why…”

“You put some of yourself into the store, and keeping it open means something more to you. There’s no shame in that. Would you like me to drop the charges?”

Belle was quiet for a long minute and wouldn’t meet Gold’s eyes. “Would you think less of me if I said yes? He… he has blamed me for so many things over the years. I don’t want to add something that I actually did do to that list.”

Gold struggled to control his temper, to make sure his anger at Maurice French didn’t overpower his concern and love for Belle. It also pained him that she could think that he could think less of her after all they had been through. 

“I could never think less of you,” he said softly, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I do not know what he has said to you over the years, but I know you. You are not to blame for the shop’s struggles – from what I know, you’ve done everything you could to help – or what happened with your mother or his drinking or anything else regarding him. He is a grown man and should take responsibility for himself. It is despicable for him to push that off onto you. 

I will drop the charges, but I don’t want to if you are just asking because you’re afraid of what your father might say. If he says anything against you, he will have to answer to me.”

Belle smiled faintly at Gold’s words. “I think I would like to give him one more chance. But this time it’s on him. I’m done helping with the store. It’s up to him now, whether it does well or it fails.”

Gold nodded. “I will call the Sheriff tomorrow. And I think,” he continued, his voice hardening, “If its ok with you, I will pay Maurice French a visit, and explain to him the terms of his release. He has the opportunity to clean up his act, to be a free man, but he is not to ask you for money again. He is to do this on his own. He is not to approach you unless you contact him first.”

“I would appreciate that. He never… he never seems to listen to me.”

Gold clenched his jaw. He hated how the men in her life had treated her, but thought that perhaps the best way to distance himself from them was to try to show her that not all men were like that. “I will make sure he sees that I am serious. I don’t want him to bother you anymore.” 

“Thank you,” she said softly, rubbing her thumb over his fingers. 

***

As March began, Belle noticed a change in Gold. He grew distant and curt and started to ignore her texts and phone calls, and she grew worried. She recognized it was a very difficult time for him, and March 15 was a very hard date to remember, but she wished he wouldn't shut her out. 

A week before the anniversary of Baelfire’s death, Belle went to the pawn store in the evening, hoping to see Gold and talk to him. But she found the store closed, with a sign saying it would be closed through March 20. 

Concerned about him, she decided she would go over to his house. She wanted to be there for him, as he had been there for her through everything. It was late by the time she walked to his neighborhood, but she thought maybe they could have a late dinner together. 

It took Gold a while to answer the door, and when he did looked strained and tired.

“Belle,” he said, his voice hoarse. “What brings you here?” 

As much as he wanted to see her, he didn’t want her to see him like this. March 15 had never gotten any easier for him, and he didn’t want to say anything he might regret. It was so hard, as the world got ready to embrace spring, as the trees came back to life and the birds started to sing, to know that no matter how sorry he was, the one life he cared about above all others would not be coming back. 

“I wanted to see you,” she said. “I care about you.” He had only opened the door partway, and so she stood on the front step, determined to make him see how much she cared. “I could make us a late dinner, if you haven’t already eaten,” she added, holding up the shopping bag.

“No. I… Now is not a good time,” he said, and made to close the door.

“Wait!” said Belle quickly. He paused, and she hurriedly went on, “I know what date is coming up, and I can imagine why you’ve closed the store. But I don’t want you to close me out. I want to-“

“You should go. I want to be alone,” he said, his voice low, but he didn’t shut the door. He didn’t want her to leave, but he didn’t know how to ask her to stay. 

“If you really do want me to go, I will. But if you’re saying that because you’re hurting and you don’t know to deal with that pain, I wish you would let me in. Of course I haven’t experienced what you have, but I do know what it’s like to feel like the world has turned its back on you. 

I know that sitting in the dark alone is so tempting, because you feel like you can't face anyone. Especially when you feel at fault for what happened, you feel like you deserve the pain. But I also know that being with the people you love actually does help. My friends were there for me, and I would be that person for you, if you would let me.”

“I suppose dinner would not be amiss,” said Gold, standing back and fully opening the door.

Before she went in, Belle said, “I can stay as long or as little as you want. If you want to talk, I am always here to listen, but if you want to sit in silence, I will sit with you. We can sit together in the dark, if that’s what you want.” 

Gold nodded, but didn’t say anything, and Belle went into the house and to the kitchen to start making dinner. He followed her, and sat at the kitchen table, but during the preparation and eating she did most of the talking. She told him about a school program she hoped to start at the library, and other small things, hoping to give him the chance to think about other things. 

When they had finished eating she brought their dishes to the sink and then turned back to him. Offering Gold her hand, she helped him to his feet.

Leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth, she murmured, “Will you let me help?”

“You are sure?” he said softly as he moved to kiss her back. 

“Yes,” she said and led him upstairs.

He took control once they got to his bedroom and there was a rougher quality to their love-making than normal, but Belle noted that he never hurt her.

Afterward he held her close and asked if she would stay.

“Of course,” she murmured, and shifted so she could reach to stroke his face.

That night, with Belle in his arms, Gold slept better than he had in a long time. Her presence helped to ease the weight in his chest, and to pull him out of the darkness he surrounded himself with.

Over the next few days, Belle was at Gold’s house with him when she wasn’t at the library. She got him to reminisce about his son, and to even show her pictures. Gold admitted to himself that having her there, being able to talk about the past, helped a great deal. 

On the morning of March 15, Belle woke to an empty bed. Concerned at the state she might find him in, she pulled on a bathrobe and went downstairs. 

But she found him in the kitchen, standing by the window, looking out at the ocean, and when he turned, there was sadness on his face but not the pain of the previous days.

“Good morning,” he said softly, turning as he heard her approach.

“Hey,” she murmured as she went over to stand next to him. “How are you doing?”

He shrugged. “I do not think this day will ever be easy, but having you here has… it has helped. And I greatly appreciate it.”

“Always,” she said. “When do you want to go to the cemetery?”

“We could go whenever you are ready.”

“I’ll go get dressed now, and then we could,” she suggested, and he nodded. “The flowers are beautiful. Gladioluses, right?” she asked as she was leaving the kitchen, recognizing the flowers on the table from all the time she had spent working at Game of Thorns.

“Aye,” said Gold. “For remembrance. Every year I bring him some, to reassure him that he will never be forgotten.”

She got dressed and then they went to the cemetery together. Gold led the way to the grave and put the flowers down. 

“Well, Bae,” Gold murmured as he stepped back. “Another year has passed.” And he lapsed into silence, lost in his own thoughts and memories. He bowed his head, and a tear made its way down his cheek.

Belle slipped her hand into his and they stood together quietly by the grave, the sound of the ocean in the background. 

Gold thought the thoughts he normally thought on the day – how a small action might have changed the outcome of that fateful night, that his son would have been a young man now, how in one minute his life had been irrevocably changed. But he also reflected that this year was different than previous years, and it all had to do with the woman standing next to him. For the first time in so many years, he was able to look forward to the future, and that made all the difference.

Finally Gold sighed, and said, “I suppose we can go back to the car now.” He knelt in front of the grave and brushed his fingers against it. “Until next time”

“Sometimes I go to the graveyard and just sit and think,” he said as they slowly walked back to the car. “Sometimes I’ll sit by his grave and talk to him.”

“The cemetery is a good place for thinking, quiet and peaceful,” said Belle. “And maybe, somewhere, he is listening.”

“I think it’s a nice thought to be sure, but I don’t know if I can believe that. I’ve never been sure what I believe.”

“I can understand that, and I don’t know what I believe either. But it can still be nice to talk to those who are gone. I used to visit my mum’s grave a lot, and tell her how things were going. And because no one would find me in the cemetery. It felt like she was watching over me, in a way.”

“Your mother, is she buried here?” asked Gold, remembering she had lost a loved one too, and feeling a bit bad that she had tried so hard to help him to feel better, and he hadn’t thought that maybe visiting the cemetery could be painful for her too. 

Belle nodded. “Yes. Over there. We knew she wasn’t doing well for a long time. In a way, we were fortunate it wasn’t sudden and we were able to say goodbye.”

“Would you like to pay her a visit today?”

“No,” said Belle, not wanting to shift the focus of the day. “I usually go on her birthday, in August. Maybe we could go together then.”

Gold smiled a small smile and nodded and squeezed her hand and they continued towards the car.

In the car, Gold paused, his hands on the steering wheel, and was quiet for a minute. 

“Thank you for being by my side this year,” he said at last. “After his death, I did not think I would be able to find such happiness again. But somehow I was fortunate enough to have you come into my life.”

“You never have to thank me for that. Not when I’m so grateful to you for the same thing,” said Belle. 

“’Well,” said Gold, starting the car. “How does brunch sound?”

“It sounds lovely,” answered Belle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To-day, the road all runners come,  
> Shoulder-high we bring you home,  
> And set you at your threshold down,  
> Townsman of a stiller town. 
> 
> Smart lad, to slip betimes away  
> From fields where glory does not stay  
> And early though the laurel grows  
> It withers quicker than the rose. 
> 
> Eyes the shady night has shut  
> Cannot see the record cut,  
> And silence sounds no worse than cheers  
> After earth has stopped the ears: 
> 
> Now you will not swell the rout  
> Of lads that wore their honours out,  
> Runners whom renown outran  
> And the name died before the man.
> 
> From Alfred Edward Housman's poem, To An Athlete Dying Young


End file.
